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About a week later, and I was lounging around the house, when the phone goes. "Brad Billingsgate," I said – I get straight to the point, you see.
"Hi Brad, it's Nairobi – remember me?" came this very sexy voice.
"Hi Nairobi," I said, "how's it hanging?"
She ignored me. "I've got some good news and some even better news, Brad," she told me.
"And it is?" I said.
"Well, the baroness was extremely taken by your pictures. She wants to use you in the shoot which is next week in Paris. She and you travel on the Eurostar to the Gare du Nord – she has an aversion to planes – and stay at a rather expensive hotel for the two or three days she reckons it will take with Maitresse Soulange."
"Maitresse Soulange, eh? Reckon I could get around to fucking her?" I asked.
"Who knows, Brad, you're such a smooth talking fucker,"
said Nairobi, and even over the 12 miles from her in Maidenhead to me in Reading I see hear the sarcasm dripping off her tongue.
"Anyway, what's the even better news?" I asked, playing her silly game.
"My period arrived yesterday," said Nairobi.
"Phew, that's a relief," I said, though to tell the truth I'd not even given it a second thought since we'd discussed it back in her office.
"It certainly is," said Nairobi. "The main thing is it means that in a year or two there won't be some poor little bastard running around in rompers with the name Maidenhead Billingsgate-Carruthers!"
The End.
