Parallel Lives Pt. 03

"Make sure you do, Johnny - it's important for both of us that it all goes smoothly tonight."

Martinsen filled him in on a few more details before dismissing him to get on with his normal work duties - he felt this could really be an opportunity to impress her, and so he relished the responsibility, safe in the knowledge that the evening's activities weren't too critical when it came to getting the takeover deal signed and sealed.

* * * * * *

Leaving work an hour early meant that the trains were much quieter than during rush hour, and so he passed the journey home without being touched once - a rare occurrence indeed. He returned to his small apartment and immediately set about getting ready. He stripped naked first and released himself from his chastity device, sighing as ever with the relief of freeing his penis from its hard plastic incarceration. He then showered using his favourite shower gel scented with the citrusy notes of lime and the invigorating hit of mint, a fresh but still distinctly masculine fragrance, and then washed and conditioned his hair. He then shaved for the second time that day and as he stood naked before the mirror, the metrosexual in him decided to do a little manscaping. He shaved his chest, arms and legs and then trimmed his pubic hair, leaving only a fuzzy little tuft at the base of his penis.

Once showered and shaved he went through his wardrobe to pick out something to wear. Formal, but not too formal, he reminded himself. Getting the right balance might not have been absolutely critical, but making a good impression was nonetheless important. What exactly does one wear to go to see a West End musical? He pondered over the matter for some time as he went through the contents of his wardrobe. A suit, he felt, might be a bit too formal, but a nice shirt and a pair of comfortable slacks, augmented by a smart waistcoat would be a good option.

He picked through his shirts, eventually settling on one with a subtle striped design that was smart but not too casual. He picked out a pair of cuff links that went nicely with it and then picked out a clean pair of boxer briefs. At that moment he was faced with a dilemma that faced many a city-dwelling young man in the current day and age - whether or not to put himself back into his chastity device. His penis had been cooped up inside the thing pretty much all day, and so spending the evening in it didn't hold much appeal, especially since he'd be sitting in a cramped theatre seat. So he opted to forego the chastity device and instead he simply slipped his underwear on. He was fairly certain that none of the American delegation would try anything on with him - a sexual harassment case would not be good for their public image.

He put on his trousers, slipped into his best pair of loafers and completed his outfit with a smart black waistcoat with a tasteful pastel blue silk backpiece. He completed the whole ensemble with the gold wristwatch his parents had given him for his eighteenth birthday, and his little good luck charm - a small silver pendant engraved with the inspirational words "Dream, Believe, Achieve"that his favourite aunt had given him - three simple words that had become his personal mantra.

Finally, he dabbed on a little cologne, wincing as the alcohol hit his recently shaved skin, and took a few moments to appraise his look.

"Not too shabby," he said to his reflection. "What do you reckon, Max?"

The cat of course declined to answer, and instead returned to more pressing feline matters - namely sleeping before his dinner, after which he would sleep some more before going out via the cat-flap for a night's prowling.

Feeling he had hit the sweet spot between looking smart and attractive, but not too showy in a way that would attract too much unwanted attraction from members of the opposite sex, Johnny made his final preparations before the car his boss had sent to pick him up arrived.

* * * * * *

"Right then, where are we off to?" the driver asked him as he got into the back of the smart black limousine.

"The Winchester," he answered her.

"Ooh, very classy," she chuckled.

It was one of the most exclusive hotels in London, located on Park Lane in the ever-fashionable Mayfair district. Truth be told, Johnny was rather excited at the prospect of seeing the inside of the place, even if it was only to pick up the Verbier Media delegation in the lounge as per his boss's instructions.

"Then to the Majestic theatre on Haymarket," he added.

"Right, let's be off then," the driver said as she pulled away and into the early evening traffic along Kentish Town Road.

It was almost six o'clock before the car pulled up outside the exclusive Winchester Hotel on Park Lane - as always there were a couple of supercars parked outside, as though to advertise the wealth of the establishment's clientele and give a not too subtle message of "this place isn't for the likes of poor people like you". The latest hybrid powered AVR Taranto and a sleekly Teutonic Fellbach 920S caught his eye as the driver stepped out and opened his door.

"Nice jam jars," the driver commented as she nodded in the direction of the fabulously expensive vehicles. "Wouldn't mind burning some rubber in one of those babies!"

Johnny was never one to get too excited about cars, but even he had to admit that they did look pretty cool. He stepped up towards the main doors and nodded at the smartly dressed concierge as she held the door open for him. Stepping into the lobby of the swanky hotel was like stepping into another world. The Winchester had originally been built in the 1930's in the Art Deco style that was all the rage at the time. It was all sharp angles, squares and rectangles blended with subtle graceful curves and striking horizontal lines. It was just like something from an Agatha Christie novel, and Johnny could easily picture the famed author's fastidious Belgian detective Héloise Poirot descending the stairs in her graceful if somewhat unfashionable evening dress with her trusty cane by her side, and accompanied as always by her good friend Captain Anthea Hastings. The decor had barely changed since the day the place first opened, and now almost a hundred years later, it absolutely exuded a sense of sleek 1930's elegance. Johnny decided instantly that he liked the place - oh to be able to afford to stay somewhere as classy as this!

Subtle signage directed him to the Park Lane Lounge where he was to rendezvous with the American contingent.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a Mrs. Connor?" he asked a member of the hotel's staff stationed at the entrance to the lounge. "I'm here to pick her and her colleagues up."

"Just over there, sir," the smartly attired man replied, gesturing towards a group of leather armchairs that overlooked the thoroughfare after which the lounge was named.

He thanked his fellow male for pointing the way and as confidently as he could, he strode over towards the American business delegation. Something was amiss, however - there was only one person there, a woman who looked to be in her mid or maybe late forties, rather than the three people he'd been expecting.

"Mrs. Connor?" he asked as he approached the woman.

"Oh, hey, you must be my date for tonight!" she replied jovially.

"Date?" Johnny responded.

"Don't worry, honey - just a little joke!" she chuckled. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Susan Connor."

She spoke with a distinctive New York accent - instantly Johnny could imagine her ordering coffee and bagels at a certain world famous delicatessen a stone's throw from Central Park.

"Johnny Morgan," he replied to her. "I er, I thought there was supposed to be three of you?"

"Yeah, seems my coworkers would much rather prop up the bar instead of going to the theatre, so it's just you and me tonight."

"Oh, right," Johnny said, mildly thankful that Mrs. Connor on her own would be easier to deal with than three women, but at the same time he felt a little anxious about being in the company of a single woman for the entire evening. "Well, okay then, as long as they're happy I guess."

"God, I just love your accent!" Connor chuckled. "You really are adorable!"

"Er, thanks," Johnny responded. "Umm, so anyway, I have a car outside waiting for us."

"Then lead on, honey!" Connor replied as she stood. "I'm all yours!"

She was wearing a smart but casually elegant red satin dress, coupled with a short red velvet jacket and tasteful gold and ruby jewellery - Johnny had to admit to himself that she looked rather attractive, even if she was almost two decades his senior. He led her out of the lounge and back into the lobby, and out towards the waiting car outside on the forecourt.

"So, you work with Lou Martinsen, huh?" Connor asked as they stepped outside.

"I'm her PA," Johnny replied. "I've worked with her for the past three years now."

"Well, you can tell her from me she has a very fine looking assistant!"

Is she flirting with me? Johnny thought to himself with a slight stab of alarm as they got into the back of the car.

"Hey, don't worry, honey, I'm just admiring the view," she then added to try and assuage his unease.

"Er, yeah, of course," Johnny stammered.

"You have a very cute butt!" she whispered.

"Um, Thanks," he responded.

"Do you enjoy working for her?" Connor asked as the driver pulled out onto Park Lane.

"She's been good to me over the years, yes," Johnny replied.

"It's a real shame she can't be here tonight," Connor went on as she looked out of the window. "You tell her from me to look after her sister, and not to worry about keeping us Yankees outta trouble."

"Will do," Johnny pledged.

"Oh, and would it be possible to send some flowers to her sister from us, d'you think?"

"Of course," Johnny replied. "I have her address - I can sort that out for you right away."

"Attractive and efficient - you and I are gonna get on just swell!" Connor smiled as Johnny took out his smartphone and set about looking up a suitable online florist.

Godiva!

Mrs. Connor's flirting made Johnny feel ill at ease during the ride towards the Majestic Theatre, a mere stone's throw from The Strand in the very heart of London's West End "Theatreland" district, but he tried his best to let it simply wash over him. Nevertheless, he was somewhat glad when the driver delivered them outside the theatre.

"I've seen some great reviews of this show - I've been wanting to see it for ages!" Mrs. Connor enthused as they passed under the glass canopy that sheltered the street outside, and went into the theatre's lobby.

It was a new musical based on the ancient English folk legend of Lady Godiva, but with one critical difference - the main character in this particular interpretation of the story wasn't Lady Godiva, it was Lord Godiva. The show's creators had swapped the genders of the main characters and given it the jaunty title of "Godiva!" The show had received rave reviews for its use of full-frontal male nudity. Not only was Lord Godiva naked atop his horse as per the ancient legend, he later formed part of an all-male, all-nude chorus line at the culmination of the show's final act. Needless to say, such blatant male objectification wasn't Johnny's idea of entertainment.

"Why do musicals always have to have exclamation marks in their titles?" Johnny mused aloud as their tickets were checked on the way in. "I mean, whatever will they come up with next? "Florence!" A musical version of the life of Florence Nightingale?

"Maybe," Mrs. Connor chuckled. "Or how about "Titus!" A musical adaptation of Titus Andronica?"

Johnny had to laugh at the concept of Shakespearean tragedies being adapted into musicals, complete with jaunty songs, big show-stopping numbers and elaborate dance routines - it was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing he could imagine. It was also, judging by the subject matter of the show they were about to see, apparently not beyond the realm of possibility.

They went upstairs towards the theatre bar for a few pre-show drinks, and it didn't surprise Johnny in the slightest when Mrs. Connor promptly ordered a bottle of the most expensive champagne on offer and paid for it with her platinum credit card. Johnny wasn't much of a drinker - an occasional glass of wine with a nice meal or a social pint of beer on Fridays after work with a few colleagues was pretty much the extent of his drinking habits. He was a coffee lover first and foremost, due in part to his Saturday job as a barista during his university days. But tonight was different, and it wasn't every day he was treated to expensive bubbly, so Johnny accepted glass after glass of the pricy champagne as Mrs. Connor made sure to keep his glass regularly topped up.

After a while spent in the bar, an announcement over the theatre's public address system informed them that it was time to take their seats in the auditorium, as that evening's performance was due to begin shortly. Mrs. Connor drank down the rest of her champagne in one gulp before pouring the remainder of the bottle into Johnny's glass. She urged him to drink up, and not wanting to appear ungrateful to her for treating him to such an expensive pre-show drink, he dutifully emptied his glass.

Johnny was somewhat surprised to discover that their tickets were for one of the private boxes, just a few feet from the stage itself. With a chauffeur driven limousine and the most expensive seats in the house, it became clear that when it came to securing the takeover by such a wealthy and influential entity as the Verbier Media Corporation, no expense was being spared by his employers.

After another short wait, the lights of the auditorium dimmed and a round of applause broke out as the huge red stage curtain parted to reveal an elaborately detailed set depicting medieval Coventry. It certainly was an impressive sight. Below them in the orchestra pit, the conductor took her place before the musicians, called them to order with a few taps of her baton, and then counted them in. As the music started, performers dressed as medieval peasants began to filter onto the stage, each one of them depicting a different trade or social class - a butcher hefting a pig carcass onto his table, a woman selling fruit and vegetables from a stall, bawdy drunkards drinking from flagons of ale outside an inn. There was all manner of people, rich and not so rich alike, all going about their business. The supporting cast of the crowd scenes, due to the decline in the male population after the onset of the Anderson-Swift's virus, was unsurprisingly predominantly female, with at least two thirds of all the male roles being played by women in order to reflect the more gender balanced population of the medieval times, when there were as many men in the world as women.

The townsfolk gradually coalesced into a large group as the music gathered pace, and with an orchestral flourish, they all broke out spontaneously into a big opening number. The singing was indeed excellent, and the performers on stage danced and sang with what looked like gleeful abandon. By the time the opening song reached its soaring and fast-paced crescendo the audience applauded and cheered rapturously as the actors on stage held a final pose, their chests heaving in near unison as they caught their breath. With the overture having reached its conclusion and setting the scene for the rest of the show, the two main characters, Lefric, Countess of Mercia, accompanied by her attractive young husband, Lord Godiva, sauntered into the scene and the show proper got underway.

* * * * * *

"What do you think of it so far, Johnny?" Mrs. Connor asked him back in the bar during the interval as she poured him another glass of champagne.

"It certainly is an impressive production," he answered, and realised that he was slurring his words ever so slightly. "And the view of the stage from our box is absolutely fantastic."

He knew he had to be somewhat diplomatic -- in reality he wasn't a fan of musicals, and he definitely wasn't a fan of the male objectification that was the culmination of the production's much-vaunted and highly publicised final two acts.

"I can't wait for the part where Godiva gets naked and rides through the town," Connor chuckled, clearly almost salivating at the prospect of getting a good view of the promised full-frontal male nudity during the second half of the show. "The actor playing him is so handsome, don't you think?"

"Well, I'm not really an expert on that sort of thing," Johnny responded. "I see enough naked guys in the showers at my local gym - I can't say I find the sight of nude men particularly exciting. But, I suppose they had to cast a good looking guy in the role."

Why did he get the impression that she was testing him somehow? She definitely smiled at him when he said he didn't find naked men particularly arousing.

"Of course you wouldn't find seeing naked guys exciting, a fine red-blooded boy like you!" Connor chuckled. "But for a gal like me, the sight of a naked man is just about the most beautiful thing in the world."

"Really?" Johnny replied.

"The other day your boss took us to the Victoria and Albert Museum - we spent most of our time in the sculpture gallery just admiring all the sculptures of nude men," Connor went on wistfully. "They have a replica there of Michelangelo's David, and whenever I see that thing I always become transfixed by his... y'know... his thing."

"Er... yeah it's an, um... it's an interesting sculpture," Johnny diplomatically replied. "Michelangelo was clearly a master at, ahem, anatomy."

"I've seen the original in Florence, you know, in the Galleria dell'Academia," Connor continued as she topped up his glass. "If Michelangelo's version of David is anything close to what he actually looked like in the flesh, he must've been one of the most handsome men who ever lived."

"Yeah, well the statue is rather inaccurate in one respect," Johnny pointed out. "David was Jewish - which means he would've been circumcised, right? And Michelangelo's version clearly shows him with an intact foreskin."

"Hmm, y'know I never noticed that," Connor chuckled. "I guess I ought to look at it differently from now on!"

Before they could muse upon the finer points of historical accuracy in renaissance sculpture any further however, the public address system informed them that the second half of the show was about to start.

"I'll bet you're every bit as beautiful as Michelangelo's David under those clothes of yours," Connor whispered in his ear as they made their way back to their private box.

Her candid words set an alarm bell ringing in Johnny's head, but he declined to comment, mindful of not doing anything to jeopardise the takeover.

* * * * * *

The predominantly female audience descended into an almost reverential hush as the most talked-about scene of the musical began - the scene where Godiva, in protest at his wife's punitive taxation of the townsfolk of Coventry, resolves to ride naked through the streets of the town.

"Boy!" Godiva called for his young manservant, who was being played by a young woman. "Ready my horse! I wish to take a ride through the town."

"Yes, My Lord," the manservant replied. "And shall I fetch your cloak as well?"

"No," Godiva responded. "I shall not be needing my cloak."

"But it is cold outside this day, My Lord."

"I appreciate your concern, but I shall be fine without it. Now do as I say, boy, and fetch my horse."

"As you wish, My Lord."

As the servant bowed at his master and departed, leaving Godiva alone in his bedchamber, the orchestra began a slow paced song in a mournful minor key, and Godiva began to sing.

"How could she be so greedy?" he sang mournfully, whilst at the same time loosening the ties on his tunic. "How could she drive me to do this? Does she not see the poverty? Her people so thin and so hungry?"