The Lady Eve Pt. 05

Fifth part of what will now be a six-part story. I have tried to make it stand alone, but reading the earlier stories may help. It is set in the UK Midlands in 1981 so no mobile phones or social media. Attitudes are different and sometimes very contradictory. Some cultural references are also of the era, especially as regards tattoos. This is more of a reluctance story rather than non-consent.

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The woman who Alan Hampton knew as Eve Harrington came down to breakfast with him. She had thought about making an early exit, but as soon as she moved Alan had woken up. He had certainly tried to make up for lost time on the bonking front last night and first thing this morning. He had gone back to his room to shower when she had gone into her bathroom. To her amusement he had left her fifty pounds in notes on the bed side table with a note saying that he would have bought her a gift if it had not been Sunday and that she was out her rail fare because of her ex-fiancée. It suited her that he accepted that last night had been a one off.

They had both ordered the Full English Breakfast and she had decided that it was best to make him think that last night was best seen as a one off by eating her sausages suggestively. A good time girl with a heart of gold and sexually exciting, but not up to his level intellectually. A fond and perhaps treasured memory, but ultimately he would feel relieved that she had not stuck around.

To her surprise, Rupert had breezed into the hotel and had said, "Good to see you both. I've got a breakfast meeting here. Anyway, have a pleasant journey today despite the best efforts of British Rail. Hope you've feeling tip top this morning."

His presence meant that she would need to leave with Alan for the station. She amused herself by saying, "I'm feeling absolutely shagged this morning, Rupert."

Alan choked on his tea, but Rupert, the bastard, took it his stride. "You look radiant for it, my dear Jill. Alan, however, looks totally buggered, pardon my French."

"I'm sure you are an expert, Rupert."

The man smiled at her. "I've heard the chimes at three AM, Jill."

If Alan hadn't been around she would have been tempted to ratchet up the innuendos still further but decided against it. She contented herself with, "You are far too trim to play Falstaff. Perhaps you have a portrait in your attic."

Shit, that was a mistake. Eve was meant to be a good-natured moderately intelligent woman with a chequered past, not someone who recognised where a Shakespeare reference came from and knew the works of Oscar Wilde.

She put a warning hand on Alan's knee to stop him responding to the provocation. Fortunately, he was too irritated with Rupert to have listened properly to her last remark.

Rupert laughed, "Touché, Jill. The best of luck to you Alan in finding a seat to stand at in at the next election. I and the rest of the committee will be commending you to Central Office. TTFN."

He responded to Alan's look of puzzlement, "Ta, ta, for now. Quote from an old radio show, old chap." He shook hands with Alan and kissed her on the cheek while copping a feel of her arse. His embarrassment from last night seemed to have vanished. The nature of Rupert was clearly irrepressible.

Forty-five minutes later she waved goodbye to Alan as his train to Birmingham left. She then smiled to herself. Despite the unforeseen complications it had been a satisfying and entertaining weekend. She would catch a later train back to Birmingham.

She went into the ladies where she undid the ponytail and shook her hair out. She also changed her clothes, so she was now wearing a black pleated mini skirt, stockings, and a black V-necked jumper. She also had chosen a bullet bra so that her breasts stuck out. No one had seen her like this is in Coketown and it was very different to her normal wear. She even used a different handbag. She put her suitcase in a left luggage locker and walked back into town.

She sensed someone following her and panicked in case it was Rupert. She stopped in front of a department store with a full-length mirror as part of the window display. She bent over pretending to tie a shoelace and could see in a reflection a young man staring at her bum with ill-disguised lust and puzzlement. Ah, just someone wanting to give her a good seeing too. No need for alarm. She was tempted to ask him for directions to the hotel but decided that she had already popped one cherry today.

She was now back near the hotel she had stayed in last night but instead the Castle Hotel she turned into the Falcon Hotel. She strode past the reception desk and up to the stairs getting her key out of her purse. In a mirror at the top of the stairs she could see that the young man had followed her and was staring after her.

She had booked the room when she had come up yesterday. It was a cheaper hotel than the Castle and she had not been asked for identification after she paid cash in advance for the room. She was told she could check in immediately and it turned out that it allowed her an excellent view of the Castle Hotel entrance.

She had signed in as Eve Harrington. The choice of name had been a joke with herself. She liked watching old black and white films on Saturday afternoons on BBC2 and particularly liked a film from 1940 starring Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda called The Lady Eve. In the second half of the film Stanwyck conned Fonda into marrying her despite looking exactly the same as the woman he had dumped when he had found out she was a con artist. As she was pretending to be a woman who just happened to look almost exactly like Alan's fiancée it had seemed appropriate.

She used the baby oil to get rid of the temporary tattoo and changed her make-up. An important part of the plan was that Alan must assume that she was a woman around his fiancée's age rather than someone a few years younger and the make-up and tattoo were a crucial part of the illusion. Luckily, she had learnt at the hotel in Saundersfoot last summer how to avoid the excesses which suggested a teenager trying to look older as opposed to a woman stressing her strong points. Alan had enjoyed having sex with a woman of around his own age while pretending to have sex with a student. He may have found it too close to the knuckle to have sex with a nineteen-year-old pretending to be his student. The tattoo had also been designed to reduce the risk that he would fall in love with her. After all tattoos were only worn by men in military, merchant navy, and women of doubtful virtue. While the temporary tattoo had been tasteful, it still gave him the message that she was not a woman to take home to meet the parents.

She went downstairs and checked out. The girl behind reception was called Wendy and asked if she had enjoyed her stay. It had started raining outside and Wendy suggested that she wait in the bar for it to stop.

She went into the bar of the hotel and sat down at the end of a booth with leather seats and thought about her relationship with Bill. She decided that she was now somewhere between mistress and paid companion. As she was being paid handsomely she was definitely beyond being a simple good time girl. To her relief (and she suspected his) he was not falling in love with her but loved being with her.

Bill was away this weekend visiting his daughter and her family. They had met on Thursday night instead and had plotted the next step in the sluttification of Joanna. They had also started planning for the meeting with the history professor in two weeks' time.

She wondered how long it would be until someone offered to buy her a drink. Bill liked her to tell him stories about men trying to get off with her and it never hurt to add ammunition. Even if nothing happened, extra background detail could be added to her stories to increase the extent to they could excite Bill to a second bout of sex on their normal Saturday nights. He loved hearing about her adventures, and it helped him let go of his few remaining inhibitions. The second bout of the evening was always more satisfying for both of them.

The answer was thirty seconds. A voice said, "Can I buy you a drink, Miss." She looked up to see a young man who was over six foot tall and well- built. More to the point she saw the young man who had followed her from the station.

She smiled and said, "A G&T please." She stretched her arms above her head and pushed her breasts forward. The young man's eyes watched with obvious lust.

He went to the bar and ordered a pint for himself and what looked like a double G&T for her.

He came back with the drink and handed it to her. He said, "Have we met before?"

"Not as far as I am aware. My name's Eve."

"I'm Ronald."

"It's good to meet you Ronald." She wondered how far to encourage him. Anyway, the next train was due in an hour and a half. She decided to adopt the personality she had adopted with the Yank on the way back from Oxford a few months ago. A posh totty student who modelled and danced in bars and possibly up for a little bit of slap and tickle. If he was lucky she might even give him a Balsall Heath handshake in the toilets. That would amuse Bill.

She moved up the booth and patted the seat next to her. He sat down next to her.

She said, "I saw you in town earlier before the rain started. Did you follow me here?"

He blushed and she smiled at him, "I took it as a compliment, Ronald." She giggled and patted his arm.

He said, "I'm sorry but I thought that I recognised you from a few months ago."

"Who did you think I was?" She had a bad feeling about this.

"A women called Rebecca. I think I owe her an apology."

She took a sip from her drink to gain time. The photos she had seen last night had avoided the men's faces, but he looked about eighteen and had the physique of a rugby player.

"Well, I'm not her. Still, what did you do to her? You seem a polite and good-looking man to me." She deliberately avoided calling him a boy or young man.

"I'd rather not say. I like to think that I am a good man." He took a long swig from the drink in front of him.

"I'm certain that it wasn't that bad. Anyway, if you learnt your lesson from the mistake, maybe it was for the best." The man grimaced.

"What do you do, Eve?"

"I'm a student in London."

"What are you doing in Coketown?"

"I earn a little bit on the side doing waitressing, modelling, and dancing."

"In Coketown? There are plenty of girls who can do silver service up here without getting waitresses up from London here. I didn't think that the magistrates allowing stripping here."

"So, you just assumed that I'm a stripper? I'm a good girl, I am." The last was done in a fake cockney accent.

"I'm sorry, but ballet dancing and modelling is even less likely here." He looked mortified.

She laughed, "Don't worry. I saw you looking at me when I bent over in the street. If I were going to be offended by you wanting me to get my kit off, I would have snubbed you when you offered to buy me a drink. Still, I can see why you might have upset this Rebecca."

"You really don't mind?"

"Don't object to the desire, do object to it being taken for granted and men not taking no for an answer. Still if men ask nicely, I don't mind considering whether to have a bit of fun with them." She put a hand on his knee and squeezed while taking a sip of the drink.

"So, what were you doing in Coketown?"

"Life modelling. I will name no names. To be fair most of the men could actually paint or draw and they were gentlemen."

"In the nude?"

"Topless. Black knickers and stockings downstairs."

He was obviously imagining what she looked like half naked.

"Does it pay well?"

"£50 plus expenses last night. I also got a tip from a distinguished gentleman who gave me a lift back here after I kissed him goodnight." She winked at him. "Look, a kiss is just a kiss -- well in this case a French kiss. Don't get the impression that I'm on the game, but he had been a gallant gentleman who believed in quid pro quo. Well in this case five quid pro quo."

His knee touched hers and she did not move away.

"You can put your arm around my waist if you buy me another drink. Perhaps something sparkling?"

He gulped but went to the bar and brought back two glasses of Freixenet. They clinked glasses and his arm went around her waist. He accepted it when she stopped his hand from going underneath her jumper, but instead placed it on her thigh. She stole a glance and could see that there was a bulge in his trousers.

She made up stories about her imaginary career to titillate him. She said that the men there were not gentlemen and that she had learnt early on that if once you had obliged a customer they all expected it, so she didn't. He actually professed shock at some of the stories she told about her fellow workers experiences. She also told Ronald that the gentleman who had given her a lift back had also got to play with her tits for his fiver. After all he had already been watching them for three hours that afternoon.

They finished the drink and he looked at his watch and then his wallet. There was a ten pound in it, and she wondered what he was going to propose she did to earn it. She said, "I've time for another.... drink before I have to catch my train." The man squeezed her thigh when just then a familiar voice was heard, "Ronald, shouldn't be you at home waiting to eat the family joint my sister has slaved away at this morning? Mind you I can't say I blame you for losing track of time. Who is your delightful friend?"

What was Rupert doing here? Bugger, was Ronald the nephew he had spit-roasted Jill with back last November? Well, thar explained why Ronald thought he might owe the woman he knew as Rebecca an apology.

"Uncle Rupert. This is Eve. She's a model and dancer."

She laughed. "Well, more of a student who supplements her grant. It's good to meet you, Rupert." Fuck was he buying it.

Ronald says, "My uncle Rupert teaches dancing in his spare time. Uncle, any chance that I can come back this afternoon for a lesson?"

"Would three work for you?."

Ronald nodded at his uncle and then stood up and shook hands with her. "Eve, it was good to meet you. I'm sorry I mistook you for Rebecca." Shit, she really could have done without Rupert hearing that name.

"And you, Ronald." She kissed him on the cheek and then sat down again.

As Ronald left, Rupert sat down beside her. "Another drink, Eve?"

"I've got a train to catch in an hour."

"Plenty of time. I insist on rewarding you for entertaining and educating my nephew. I was listening for the last fifteen minutes and admiring your work."

He looked around, "This place will fill up with the Sunday lunch brigade shortly. There is a room which I use for dancing lessons we can adjourn to."

"That sounds delightful, Rupert." Well, she was curious to see the room where he had seduced Jill and to see his technique in action. A version of Jill's story would definitely bring Bill to attention and the background details would not hurt. She could always make her excuses and leave if he tried it on.

Rupert escorted her upstairs into a large room. He shut the door behind them. She was impressed by the mirrors.

She sat down on the chaise longue behind a small table with glass mats on it.

He opened the fridge and produced a bottle of champagne which he opened nonchalantly. "You will join me in a glass." He poured two glasses and handed one to her. He clinked the glasses and she giggled.

"I'll put some music on to dance to."

He moved over to the record player and put a disc on to play. He then turned to her "Put your left arm around my waist."

He held her close to him and squeezed her arse through her skirt as they moved to the music. She did not object but hummed to herself the tune "ten cents a dance." He laughed and said, "I think you're under-pricing yourself."

After ten minutes and four songs, he suggested that they sit down and have another drink. This had given her time to think about how to deal with him.

He sat next to her on the chaise longue handed her a glass again and asked. "By the way should I call you Eve, Jill, or Rebecca?" He also put a pound note on the table.

She laughed and replied, "You can call me anything you want if you give me champagne to drink and pay me to dance." She hoped that she could get away with giving him a hand or tit job.

"Maybe Sugarpuss, Lily, or Phyllis?" Fuck, she was not going to be able to bluff him. He pointed to a book which on the table entitled Halliwell on Film.

"My real name's Amanda, but as I said you can call me anything you like." She was going to go all in on her Mandy alter ego.

"Don't insult my intelligence. You are wearing the same perfume as last night and you can't hide your build or height with make-up and different clothes. Neither can you hide your dancing technique. Which is good, although some advanced lessons wouldn't hurt. I wonder if the same applies when you are horizontal."

"I'm a good girl, I am."

He smiled, "You are better as Barbara than Audrey. You were horribly unlucky to choose this hotel as a base. When I saw that someone had signed in as Eve Harrington, I finally engaged brain and realised that you were an imposter."

She said, "So I signed in under an alias which amused me. At least I didn't call myself Smith or Jones. Look if you'd like a bit of fun, I'm open to suggestions."

He said, "Clearly I know that you are not Jill, and that Alan is not your fiancée. Assume that I am an intelligent man and that you will be taking a risk by lying to me especially as you have fooled me once. If it helps you decide, what I told you last night is true. Alan has a future in the Conservative Party, and I do not want his girlfriend to make him a laughingstock nor for an adventuress to blackmail him."

He took off his jacket and hung it in the wardrobe.

He turned back to her, "Shall I hang up your jacket as well?"

She took off her jacket and handed it to him. She knew after her teasing last night the old man would want some answers and to fuck her this afternoon. Well, she could hardly blame him after she went out of her way to humiliate him last night. She needed more time to get her ducks in a row. She needed a story which protected Alan and her identity. She also needed a better idea of what he knew.

"What gave me away?

"The more I thought things through last night, the more I knew something was wrong with the set-up. First, if you were the real Jill you would not have been here at all. Second, you could have showed me the tattoo at any time, the fact that you delayed only made sense if you wanted the detail about what Jill did last November. Third, you were genuinely shocked by the revelations. Fourth, I remembered about temporary transfers at three in the morning and Wendy downstairs confirmed that they are easy to find. Fifth, I did rewatch Ball of Fire and the Lady Eve last Christmas. The tongue clicking jogged my memory."

"Well, I was improvising on the fly with no preparation. I was only expecting to deal with Alan and not with you."

"Appreciate that and I'm not saying that you did badly. Bad luck for you that my favourite Hollywood actress was Stanwyck and that one of the most memorable nights of my life was after taking an enthusiastic married WAAF to see the Lady Eve. When I was dancing with you now, I thought positively the same dame."

Rebecca could not help laughing. "One of the best final lines." Ok, he knew she was an imposter. She had to convince him that she was no threat to Alan. Mandy the good time girl was the right way to go. She looked around and saw a possible means of getting her some time to think.

"Let's move things on. I told you that you imagined me making love to me a certain way last night. Was I right?"