The Spirit of Ecstasy

"Of course, no problem. I'll get my coat and bag and we'll go when you're ready." Gina replied.

"That's the last sheet going through now. Just need to pack up my typewriter and I'll meet you by Reception."

xxxXxxx

I drove onto the by-pass again, this time in the opposite direction to the pub where we had dined and, just a few minutes down the road, I turned off as directed down a narrow country lane, which twisted and turned before rising up a steep hill. My thoughts were along the lines that this was an oddly rural place for a travelling salesman to find cheap digs. We turned a final leafy corner and reached a pair of opened iron gates, which Gina directed me to drive through, along a tree-lined gravel avenue and into a sweeping drive in front of an old Manor House, set in acres of grassy lawns, on top of a hill with magnificent views all around.

"Wow! This is like no digs I've ever stayed in before," I remarked, thinking, 'This is more like a country hotel or, is this where she lives?' I continued speaking, "It's a beautiful house and grounds, isn't it?"

"Yes," Gina smiled, "it's lovely here."

"Where shall I park?" I asked.

"Just to the right of the main door, Harry. Bring your bags, we can walk around the side and go through the kitchen."

I parked up and took my case and a garment bag containing two suits out of the boot, along with a slip case containing folders. There was another suitcase and a locked metal file case as well as my typewriter left in the boot, Gina noticed.

"I'll take the garment bag for you, Harry," Gina offered. I handed it over and closed the boot.

We walked around the right side of the house, missing out what I presumed were the main entrance and reception area, Gina leading the way, until we reached the kitchen. Gina opened the door and walked into a large hot kitchen full of busy people. Gina introduced me first to a heavily-built, ruddy-faced man in his sixties, wearing a dark suit.

"This is Tom senior, the gardener, usual chauffeur, also butler and handyman, he serves the evening meal. Everybody, this is Harry Crabtree."

"Mr Crabtree," said Tom senior with a huge friendly smile, as he held out his large hand for me to shake.

I felt a hand that was dry and calloused, the cheerful fellow towering over me by at least three inches.

"Please call me Harry." I said, "The grounds we passed through look lovely."

The man nodded with an even broader smile.

"This is Tom junior," continued Gina, introducing a tall, thin young man wearing glasses, "he's Tom's grandson, a student at London University, and presently driving my father back and forth to the office in the capital every day."

"Pleasure to meet you, Tom," I said, as I shook the youngster's hand, which was smaller, softer and damper than his grandfather's, "what are you reading?"

"Human Geography, it's the study of people and their communities. I'm in my second year," he said with pride.

"This is Linda, Tom's wife and housekeeper," Gina continued the introductions. Linda wore glasses, was also tall, slim and elegant, her dark brunette hair streaked with grey pinned up high, wearing a smart but conservative black dress, with a thin gold chain around her neck, looking the perfect partner for her husband Tom.

"Hello, Linda, I hope my short notice for accommodation wasn't too inconvenient for you?" I said as I gently shook her hand.

"No, we always have rooms ready and available, I had plenty of time to air your room for you and put fresh towels in your bathroom. There's a bell pull by the bed that rings down here, so do call if you need anything. Bath, hand towels and bed sheets are normally changed weekly, but if you want them changed at any other time, just leave them on the bathroom or bedroom floor and I'll sort them out in the morning."

'Mmm,' I thought as I smiled and nodded, 'bedroom with a bathroom? I am way out of my league here. I always use boarding houses with a shared bath at the end of the hall, because they are much cheaper than hotels, but this is another step up entirely. Tomorrow I think that I am going to have to find somewhere else to stay for the rest of the week.'

"And last but by no means least, the cook Carol, who comes in four or five afternoons a week to prepare evening meals, and for whenever there's a large dinner party," Gina said, pointing to a short, fat, red-faced middle-aged woman wearing a grubby apron and stood at a gas cooker stirring a pot. She just waved at me with a harassed smile on her face, so I decided not to bother her by shaking her hand.

Introductions completed, Gina headed towards an internal door and hooked her finger at me to urge that I follow her, "This way Harry, I'll show you up to your room."

"It's the Gold Room, Gina," Linda called after us as I followed Gina out of the kitchen.

"Oh, good," Gina said quietly as she led me down a narrow corridor to some narrow steps leading up to the next floor and yet another corridor, "that's the best guest room, it has a nice bathroom, with gold taps, but it once used to be the music room and for many years housed a gold pianoforte, that's long gone. But that's where the name of the room comes from."

The room was large, with the bedside lights already switched on welcoming us inside, very tastefully furnished, with a king sized bed covered in a gold bedspread and gold curtains drawn shut at the window.

"I kept quiet downstairs, but this is not a boarding house or country hotel at all, Gina, is it? This is your Dad's house, right?"

"Yes, my parents' home, where I grew up, and this is where I have been staying for the last few months, since Eric's accident. My house is more than a dozen miles away in another village, but it's empty at the moment and I no longer felt comfortable there on my own. Harry, you are welcomed here as my special guest."

"I really can't stay here, Gina, I'm just a salesman. All right, I am hoping that your company will be a customer from Thursday, a very good customer. I'm confident that I can come up with a deal that will save you money, be good for my company too and possibly get me a good bonus for that first order. And rest assured I will look after your account so we'll that you will continue to get the best service you possibly can, and will continue to keep the prices attractive enough to fend off rivals year by year. But I have calls booked in with some of my established local customers all this week as well as cold calling on at least one other company every day and probably won't have any contact with your company until you receive the quote that I arranged to go through with you on Thursday. I cannot stay here beyond the necessity of tonight, as it is too late now to find anywhere else. You can see that, surely Gina?"

"You are here as my personal guest, Harry. You're my escort, remember, we have shaken hands and kissed lips by way of agreement on that. I have spoken to Linda, who has aired this room for you, and have fully explained your presence here to Mum and Dad. They are expecting you to stay here for as long as you like and join us daily in our evening meal. Put your case down next to your garment bag on the bed. ... There, that wasn't too hard was it?"

I did as I was told, turned and presented her with arms held out and palms upturned as if to say, 'what now?' And Gina simply stepped into the space between my arms, wrapped her arms around my neck and open-mouth kissed me on the lips and inserted one knee between my legs and rubbed her provocative thigh firmly against my groin, while her tongue tried to worm its way past my lips into my mouth.

My jaw clamped shut so Gina's insinuating tongue couldn't get past my teeth. I put my hands on her upper arms, gripped her gently and pushed her away, breaking lip contact until she replaced the sole of her errant leg back on the carpet next to her standing leg.

"Gina!" I wailed in exasperation, "you're still a married woman!"

"And you are still a gentleman, a man of principle, Harry," Gina smiled, her head slightly tilted to one side as if she was examining me from a slightly different perspective, "I respect that enormously, but I felt I had to test you."

"Test me?"

"You are indeed a gentleman, Harry, just as I thought you were after I tried to throw myself at you earlier in the company car park. A woman finds it hard sometimes to tell the difference between a cad and a gentleman, but after my bad experience I think I can now tell the difference."

"And what is that difference?" I asked, still holding this lovely lady at arm's length.

"Well, when I was younger, I didn't know any better, so unfortunately I was charmed by and ended up married to a cad, an absolute cad actually, and then I had to make the best of a bad choice in husbands and am determined to avoid repeating that error. I have been 'hit on' and flirted with continuously ever since I was about 15, I still am today, even with my expensive ring set that marks me as a married woman. What I didn't know about cads and gentlemen back then has been more than filled in since, so I was confident that you are exactly what you seem to be and my kiss here and now in your room proves it."

"Proves what?"

"Proves that your body is naturally capable of reacting automatically to my kiss and the stimulation of my rather unsubtle knee pressed into your groin. I felt your arousal so do not deny it. We are in a private room, out of earshot of the kitchen and the living rooms, yet you resisted your natural hormones and refused to ravish an apparently willing female, because of your sensibilities. I'm certain that Eric would've had no hesitation to do what comes naturally. Tell me honestly, Harry," she added softly, "after nearly twenty years of marriage and being a single man for the last six or seven years, exactly how many women have you bedded?"

"One," I replied without having to think about it, "only one ... ever. I told you before I was no player. I played for keeps and I lost."

"You married your childhood sweetheart, Mavis, yes?"

"Yes. I did."

"Relax, my dear Harry, I repeat my proposal for you, with a minor adjustment. It will fill your evenings and, hopefully, most weekends and provide you with a secure and above average home base." She placed the palms of her hands on my chest and stepped close into me. I had already relaxed my grip on her arms. "Do you want me to tell what my proposal is in more detail? And the rewards?"

"Why not?" I replied with a question.

"Why not, indeed, Harry." Her palms climbed my chest until one rested on my clavicle and her right palm cupped my jaw, her index finger gently stroking my cheek. "I have needs, Harry," she teased with a smile.

"Geeeena!"

"Just teasing, honey. I told you that my 'loving husband' is in a coma. What I didn't say is that he is unlikely to ever wake up again. They have recently fitted monitors that somehow check for brain waves or something and they're not picking up anything. He is in what they call a 'vegetive state', brain dead. He cannot move, barely responds to external stimuli and cannot breathe on his own without air being pumped in and out of his lungs. His heart is beating but the doctors say this will stop shortly after they turn off the respirators."

"I am so sorry, Gina."

"Don't be, Harry, he is the cad I married, and the accident he barely survived proved it."

"Proved he was a cad?"

"Eric was not alone in his car when he wrapped it round a tree at an estimated ninety miles an hour. A young married lawyer, in her twenties and in his employment in the group legal office at head office, was dead when she was pulled from the wreckage. As well as suffering impact injuries from not wearing a seatbelt, she was suffocated to death by swallowing whole the top three inches of Eric's erect penis, which blocked the airways in her throat, while Eric was bleeding out, partly from the stub of his engorged dick that she left behind, and massive internal injuries. The prognosis is that in the throes of ecstasy, Eric must've closed his eyes and lost control of his Bentley, left the road and on impact with the tree, the poor girl, who was already in the act of swallowing his dick, she bit it off and swallowed Eric's little head and a bit more."

"Blimey!"

"Yes, it made headlines in one of the less respectable Sunday newspapers yesterday. So. In the absence of my errant husband, I have need of an escort for formal functions a couple of times a week. Someone to take me to the ballet, charity balls, dances, parties, and the like, especially in the run in to Christmas and the New Year. I'm only interviewing you for the job, Harry, no rivals, no competition, just yourself. There will be some fringe benefits if you want them. Are you interested in the job?"

"I don't know, Gina. What does Eric's family say?"

"Other than his half-sister who agrees with me, the rest are being a pain in the arse, Harry. This is why Eric's life support has not been switched off. They've taken out a court procedure preventing action by the hospital for another two months and the lawyers say that could be extended in another action by a month or more before we get the say-so to turn off the life-support."

"If he's brain dead, what is the point of keeping him 'alive'?"

"Exactly, just what the doctors are saying. But, all the while Eric is technically still alive, the rest of his family can prevent the reading and actioning of his Last Will & Testament, a copy of which indicates that everything goes into a trust for Giles, which will mature when he is 28, in 13 years' time. Until then I would be appointed as m trustee to administer the assets, which includes half a dozen businesses. All of them are run by his relatives who are afraid for their jobs once I am able to take them over. Most of them are useless managers and only got their positions because they blackmailed Eric by their knowledge of his extra marital activities."

"And you can't take over control of the assets until after Eric dies?"

"Correct. I cannot in any case use the assets for my own benefit, as I have guarantees of income provided elsewhere in the Will, but the assets need constant attention because, in the meantime, I am sure some of these cousins are furiously lining their own nests in what little time they have left. I wonder if there will be anything left over for Giles' future." Gina said. "Now, get washed up and changed, I'll come back for you in twenty minutes, unless you need help dressing..."

"Go on, off with you, you minx. Come back in twenty."

xxxXxxx

When Gina collected me twenty minutes later, I had showered in the impressive gold-tapped bathroom and changed into my smartest suit and shiny shoes. I know she said not to dress up for dinner but I assumed she meant no evening wear, just a lounge suit or jacket. And I was glad I had. Gina was in a figure-hugging electric blue dress, sleeveless, held up by tiny straps the width of noodles, and cut off just above the knees in the modern style that perfectly showed off her curves, and shapely knees and legs above three inch heels. Her thick dark brown hair was piled up on the top of her head making her look even taller. A single string of pearls around her neck and pearl stud earrings completed the picture of elegance and beauty. She really took my breath away, leaving me with uttering a gasp at first sight before she smiled knowing that I was more than impressed and held out a cocked arm as she half turned, offering a profile that alone that would have rendered me speechless.

I gladly took her arm and, wordlessly, she led me in the opposite direction to the way we had come down the corridor, leading to a landing and via a grand staircase down to the entrance hall.

Gina led me into a classic dining room with a long mahogany table that could easily seat sixteen, but tonight set for just four places at one end, not far from a roaring fireplace. Standing by the fireplace, warming themselves, was an older couple, probably in their sixties, who were quite elegantly dressed for dinner.

"Harry, my parents Alfred and Pamela King," introduced Gina as we approached the smiling couple. "Mum and Dad, this is the gentleman Mr Harry Crabtree from Small Widget Engineering & Company Limited that I was talking to you about earlier."

Wearing a brilliant welcoming smile, almost a replica of her daughter's stunning smile, Mrs Pamela King stepped in front of her husband in order to greet me first, ignoring my outstretched hand to reach up to grip my shoulders rising on tip toes and pulling me down to kiss both my cheeks. I had to stoop to her five foot five, which I estimated her height to be. Her hair was dark streaked with grey, particularly where her parting on the right side of her head was, refreshingly natural but beautifully cut and coiffured. She had also chosen pearls for her adornment, a longer necklace of three strings, and wore a more conservative black dress covering her knees, long sleeved and with a round neck covering up her upper chest.

"Lovely to meet you, Harry," she said in a soft, cultured voice, her eyes sparkling, full of intelligence and apparently genuine pleasure at meeting me, "please call me Pam. I do love the colour of that suit, so very sharp and modern."

"Thank you, Pam, it is both an honour and a privilege to be welcomed into your home."

"You are most welcome, please do make yourself at home, both in the house and in the grounds during your stay here," Pam smiled.

Then she stood to one side to allow access to their guest by her husband. He was very tall, two or three inches taller than me and much thinner. His hair was almost white and quite thin on top, I re-estimated his age to more like seventy than sixty. He was blessed with a disarming smile, lively grey eyes and a firm handshake which he executed with both bony hands, dry and warm from the fireplace.

"Pleasure to meet you son, heard lots of good things about your company and particularly the way you do business, so we are looking forward to having a long and fruitful relationship with you. Call me Fred, Harry, everyone else does."

"It is a pleasure meeting you too, sir, er Fred, I wasn't aware you even knew of my company," I replied.

Fred maintained his grip on my hand with both hands and winked at me. "Soon as I heard you were coming here tonight," he confessed, "I phoned round a few likely customers of yours and picked up more than a few glowing reports of your service. Research, my boy, is essential in any business, that and having the right contacts when you need them. Your reputation goes before you, what people say about you, and how enthusiastic are the answers given, do you credit, son. Now, what's your poison to be before dinner?" Fred waved his hand across a table which had a dozen bottles of booze, sherries, brandy, gin, dark and white rum, bourbon and whisky, including a Glenfiddich and a Laphroaig, 8 and 10 year respectively.

"I'll have the Glenfiddich with plenty of water, please Fred," I said, "the Laphroaig is more for after dinner."

"Oh we have a different table in the library for after dinner drinks. If you like highland whisky, we have a rare Blair Athol 13, which only requires a single drop of water to reveal its many talents. Something special to look forward to."

"Sounds perfect. I've enjoyed the 10 once before, but never come across the 13."

"You're in for a treat later then," Fred said as he poured a generous three fingers each of the Glenfiddich into a pair of cut glass tumblers and splashed in a little water, before handing one over to me, "I have a few shares in Arthur Bell's distillery which I delightedly inherited from my father, so we get offered a case of these rare treats from time to time."

Meanwhile, Pam had prepared two small gin and tonics, with ice and lemon, for herself and her daughter.