The Substitute

Yeah I know, an arsehole question that made Melanie squirm even more. But Melanie had been such a bitch to me (and Gail) over the years, that I planned to stick it to her -- figuratively speaking, not in the literal sense -- every chance I got over the following few days. Christ, if we were living on Barmon's tub, then Melanie and I would have to keep the lovey-dovey act going twenty-four hours a day wouldn't we? Well almost!

Did I say tub? I have no idea how much private yachts cost to buy or run. But I figured, on first sight of the monster, that Sarah Barmon was in for one hell of a divorce settlement when Frank Barmon decided to upgrade to a later model wife. Jesus, the thing was more like an ocean liner than any yacht I'd ever seen before. With an appropriately large and very efficient crew to match.

Shortly after we stepped aboard, Melanie and I had followed the crew-member -- carrying my luggage -- to our stateroom.

Yeah it was big, far bigger than the bed I had at home in my little flat-come-studio. And the stateroom it was in was probably bigger than my whole damned flat, as well.

"Bastard, there's only one bed in here." Melanie said the instant the steward had left us alone.

The word bastard, I happily accepted as being directed at me. Mel was to refer to me -- privately -- with the word frequently that day, and usually under her breath so no one else would hear, if you understand me.

"Oh come on, sweetheart, Barmon would have probably smelt a rat, had we not accepted his kind offer. And besides, I intend to extract adequate payment for my efforts on your behalf."

I can't exactly explain the expression those words brought to Melanie's face. Lets just say that if looks could kill... well, yeah I'd have been dead on the spot.

"Besides all that, if you ask me, Barmon was suspicious anyway, that's why they came across and joined us at the airport."

"I suppose you might be right. I had said that I would get a taxi, but Frank insisted on hiring that damned great limousine thing, and on coming along with me to the airport to meet you."

"Well, we'd better put on the best performances of our lives for the next few days then, hadn't we? Now lets get up there and join the old fart, in that saloon or lounge he was talking about; or they might start to think that we're in here for the duration? After all, we haven't seen each other for how long?"

"Four weeks. You were in the States before I had to go down to Cannes."

"Oh, and Melanie... Simon Templar?"

"Sorry, but I was thinking on the hoof. It was the first name that jumped into my head."

"You know who Simon Templar was, don't you?"

"Some character in a book, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, a professional crook. A type of Robin Hood character who was a little bit of a ladies man and philanderer on the side, I think; called himself the Saint!"

"Sounds like I picked the right name where you're concerned then, doesn't it?"

"Ooh, nasty." I grinned back at her. "But I hope none of the Barmon's have read any of those Saint books."

"Why?"

"Because the Saint's victims were always unsavoury characters, crooked business men and the like. And I'm more than little curious about where your friend Barmon got all his money from."

"He's a businessman."

"Yeah, and so was Al Capone, according to his CV... And there was a Robert Maxwell, remember. Now come on, lets get back upstairs and join our hosts... and prove to them how much we're in love with each other."

I had fun for the rest of the day. Melanie and I were not the only guests on-board; there were an Asian couple who spoke little English, and three or four pieces of bleached-blonde eye-candy. Chelsea Trollops, or sluts, if you like. They all looked the same in their tiny bikinis and seemed to appear and disappear at random.

I'm not sure if they were screwing the crew, or Frank and Vernon Barmon; although I suspected it was the later. But I definitely got the feeling that they were getting laid by someone when they did their vanishing acts.

I almost laughed when I first saw Sarah Barmon out on the deck by the pool. Honestly, it was like a scene I'm sure you're familiar with from an old film. Wearing an almost non-existent bikini, she was draped on a deck lounger, for effect. An oversized hat shielding her face from the sun, drink in one hand and holding the book she was apparently reading through her dark glasses, in the other. Whether Sarah Barmon was aware of what was probably going on between her husband (and/or stepson) and those pieces of eye candy, I have no idea. If she was, then she obviously didn't care!

Melanie and I circulated quite a bit; well she gave me a brief tour of the areas of the yacht that we could legitimately visit. I would give Melanie a cuddle every opportunity I got and... well, I took some real liberties in the yacht's swimming pool when we got in there later during the day. Just accidental type gropes while messing around with Melanie in the water, as you'd expect a fiancé to behave with his betrothed.

I noted that Vernon -- when he was around -- was watching us quite a lot of the time; well, Melanie really, I should imagine. And to be honest, I can't say I could blame him; Melanie sure put that eye-candy to shame.

Conversation with the other guests was a little... frustrating. The Asian couple's grasp of even rudimentary English was questionable to say the least. Hey, I never even found out where they hailed from. The dolly-birds, well their topic of conversation seemed to be restricted to expensive places they'd visited on the French Rivera, film stars etcetera, and other so-called celebrities, they'd met. I figured all four -- or maybe there were only three -- were down in the Med on a fishing trip, looking for rich husbands who were as dumb as they were.

Anyway conversation with them was so... er, inconsequential, that it really wasn't worth having.

I'll be honest -- although I instinctively didn't like the bugger -- Frank Barmon and Sarah were the only people who appeared to come from the same planet as I did. Oh, and Melanie of course; I was somewhat surprised that we could... I don't know, get on so well together I suppose. Although, I could still feel her squirm when I whispered suggestive comments about how much I was going to enjoy the night in her ear.

Yeah well, I stuck as close as I could to Mel all afternoon and into the evening. And when I say close, I mean 'close' type close! Hey, remember, we were supposed to be two lovers who hadn't been with each other for a month at least.

Ah yeah, I suppose the more observant of you are wondering about my mention of being in the pool together with Mel. Yes well, the crafty cow, slipped away and changed while I was talking with Frank. You know, I thought that she was just off to... Yeah well, when Mel reappeared she was dressed in a bikini. Albeit one that consisted of several times the quantity of fabric of any other bikini I'd seen on-board.

Actually, I know some folks might find this a little strange, but I found Melanie's more chaste attire, far more... alluring -- I think is the word I'm looking for -- than the tiny scraps of cloth the other females were wearing. The lower part was low slung on her hips, if you understand me and her navel was well and truly visible, -- sorry, I got a thing about the female navel, maybe I'm kinky or something -- but it had a very short sort-of skirt frill attached that seemed to accentuate the movement of Melanie's hips as she walked about.

And then there was the bra part of the outfit. Yeah well, I must admit that once my eyes had got up there, I had difficulty tearing them away from it again.

Look, I'd seen Melanie in a swimming costume many times back in our school days. For public safety reasons, swimming was on the school curriculum back in those days. The girls always wore extremely chaste one-piece costumes for decency's sake, or more likely because of school rules. But when my eyes connected with Melanie's impressive front suspension... Well back in our school days Mel had developed an impressive figure, but she hadn't had those buggers! Actually, it crossed my mind that Melanie might possibly have had a little enhancement surgery. An incorrect assumption I soon discovered.

"Put your tongue away, Kevin, and please remember to look at my face when you're speaking to me. You're supposed to have seen them before." Mel had whispered in my ear, as I gave her a welcome back hug.

"Jesus, Girl, how much did those buggers cost you?" I whispered back.

"Bastard! They're natural!" she whispered again. I was getting used to Mel calling me that.

"Jesus, Mel. What do you need me for? How come some tosser hasn't carried you off into the sunset by now?"

"Many have tried, Kevin; but regretfully not the right... tosser, so far."

"Oh my, is there going to be a hot time in the old town tonight!"

"Bastard, is that all you can think about?"

"Mel, sweetheart; you set this game in motion, remember? I'll just score when I get the chance."

"Bastard!" she whispered once again, pulled away from me and dived into the pool.

That's when I dashed down to our stateroom and dug out my swimming trunks, a bit sharpish like.

-----

Later Melanie pulled another fast one on me when she changed out of her bikini. Honestly, I had really been looking forward to changing back into civvies, but Mel slipped away while I was tied up in conversation with Sarah Barmon.

Mel reappeared wearing an enchanting cocktail dress. Her unexpected change of attire took me by surprise and Sarah Barman noticed, she made a comment to Mel about going down to get dressed without me.

"Jesus, Sarah, if Simon and I had been changing at the same time... Well, he wouldn't let me out of that room all night and we'd be standing you up for dinner this evening." Mel laughed back at her, and then she suggested that I should go below and get changed for dinner.

I'll admit that that left me with a little bit of a problem, because -- not intending to attend any formal functions on my holiday -- I was sans a dinner jacket. I had to settle for a pair of dark grey slacks and the one white shirt I had with me. The stateroom's steward did produce a clip-on bow tie from somewhere for me though.

Just before dinner, four or five other couples came aboard the yacht. One Italian, two German or Austrian I believe, and an American couple. I can't say I kept track of who was who, or even cared much.

Yeah alright, I was still a little more than preoccupied with Melanie's cleavage. Frank Barmon kind-of humorously explained that away by telling everyone that Mel and I had been apart for a while; well, I think that was what he was saying.

Things got more than a little complicated over dinner, because my real name came out; Melanie forgot herself. We managed to explain it away -- apparently to everyone's satisfaction, including the Asian couple's -- with the story that I used two personas. One, my own, for my serious art work, and Simon Templar for my non-serious work, i.e. my advertising and book illustrations. Everyone seemed to accept the tale anyway. Up until then, I believe everyone had thought I restricted my... artistic bent, to graphic art and book illustrations.

For some reason, only one of the Dolly-Birds was eating with us, and by freak chance she'd actually been to one of my exhibitions. Changed my perception of the girl somewhat, did that little bit of information; especially when she raved on so graphically about how good my paintings were.

It shook me some, that she could, and did, describe some of my work in detail to all present; but then, she mentioned that her father had a couple of my studies in his London flat.

Funny, how your opinions of someone can change so quickly; once that bird started talking about art... Well...

Anyway, the odd thing was, Melanie got just a little pissed when the Dolly Bird and I started talking about my serious art.

Hey look, Mel had been making a very good job of hiding her animosity towards me all day, basically because she had no alternative. But my constant inferences to her, about what was going to happen once we finally hit that stateroom together... well, I told you I'd known Melanie since almost forever and I could tell that she was pissed-off about the whole situation.

But hey, that was Mel's problem, not mine; the whole little charade had been her idea.

Once that Dolly Bird started singing my praises as an artist... Okay, I suppose in her mind the Dolly Bird kind of attributed me with more fame than I actually had -- in fact, at that time I was a virtual unknown -- but it was also pretty obvious to me that the Dolly Bird equated fame with celebrity, -- and fortune -- and I suppose that must have put me in the frame to be on the Dolly Bird's approved prey list.

Whatever, I could tell that Melanie was not at all happy about the fact that the Dolly Bird was suddenly showing more than a passing interest in me, and my art. Yeah, I should imagine jealously at first sight, from most folks present perspective, anyway. But -- at the time -- I took Mel's attitude, as a display of her best acting of the day.

After dinner everyone was milling around out on the rear sundeck drinking and chatting. I do believe that Melanie was trying to converse with the Asian couple, and not making very much headway. Someone else, who was apparently a little more observant than I'd first taken her for, collared me.

"You know what, Kevin... or do you prefer Simon?"

"Kevin, Sarah."

"I thought so; you didn't look happy when everyone was calling you Simon. But tell me, Melanie appears to be a little... well, a little off, with you today. Considering how excited and impatient she's been to see you all week... Well..."

Those few words called for some quick thinking and my part; especially because Mel was possibly within earshot.

"Ah, well you see, Sarah. Melanie's a little, er... Well, Mel's a very physical person, and our relationship is pretty intense most of the time. And well, when we went down to our cabin earlier... Yeah well, if we'd got into anything then, we'd still be down there now." I replied with a grin.

And yeah, Mel did hear, and she shot me a sideways glance that might have killed a lesser man.

Sarah didn't so much reply, she just grinned back at me. Then added, "Can't say I'd blame her. We must ensure that we don't keep you two up too late this evening," with a wink.

"But tell me, Kevin, do you take commissions for portraits, with, as well as without, clothes?"

Hey look, I told you that the Dolly Bird had told everyone present what my speciality is. Ah maybe I didn't make that clear to you. I'll let you work out where my artistic calling lies, from the words Sarah had just used.

"Sure I do, Sarah. But I insist that my clients are familiar with my... style, and they must have visited at least one or possibly two of my exhibitions, before I'll accept any commissions. I have a particular style and I would hate for anyone to misunderstand what they are going to get."

Yeah well, that was the best diversionary statement I could think of on the spur of the moment. The last thing I... or rather Melanie and Mark needed, was Sarah Bowman discovering that Mel and I didn't live together and definitely were not in the throws of getting married. Well not too quickly anyway. And she'd be bound to work that out if she ever came to my studio in London. Yeah well, that's what I called it.

"What were you and Sarah talking about?" Mel asked when she'd finally disengaged from the asian couple and Sarah had gone off to... circulate, I suppose you'd call it.

"Oh, I was just telling her how... amorous you get in bed, sweetheart."

"Bastard!" Mel replied, and then headed off to talk to the American couple whom she apparently knew quite well.

I stood by the ship's rail; drinking and watching the world go past on the quayside below.

-----

It must have been about half one in the morning, before we eventually... or should I say Melanie, decided that she couldn't delay our retiring to our stateroom any longer.

The visitors had left, the Asian couple had retired long before, and god alone knew where Vernon and the Dolly Bird had got to, though I could hazard a guess.

And, it had become became pretty obvious that Frank and Sarah were waiting for us to retire before they did so themselves. I still didn't particularly like Frank Bowman, but I have to admire the man's manners.

Melanie and I bade our hosts' goodnight and headed down towards our stateroom, but Melanie hadn't completely capitulated, if you understand me. She was still racking her brains, looking for... distractions; I suppose you'd call it.

"Kevin, what will Gail say, when she finds out we've spent the night together?"

"Oh, I don't know; 'Good on you, Kev!' I should imagine."

"You're joking, she won't mind that we've...?"

"Why the hell should she?"

"I would have thought that was obvious. If my husband..."

"Husband! Jesus, Mel, Gail and I aren't married. What in the hell gave you that idea?"

"You're not?"

"No, of course we aren't."

"But..."

"But what, Melanie."

"Well, you two were living together for such a long time and..."

"Whoa, hold up, girl? Gail and I shared a flat. Yeah we were close, but... well, never was there any suggestion that we... Christ, she had her own bedroom, you know!"

Not a lie, Gail always did have her own bedroom. She just hadn't been in the habit of using it very much until Dmitri came into the scene.

"Oh no, I didn't know. But you two were together for so long..."

"Melanie, where are you coming from here? Gail and I are very close friends; more than friends in a way. Yeah we mucked about together; it stood to reason we would. Both Gail and I had similar artistic bents and appreciated the same sort of things. Geeks wasn't it... that you and your friends used to call us, especially when you knew we were listening?"

Melanie turned a brighter shade of pink than I managed to get out of her all day. And boy had I been trying hard on that score.

"I don't understand, Kevin. You and Gail... well you two were always together, even when we were at school."

"Gail and I shared a love of art and literature, Mel. I might add that we were conspicuously alone in the appreciation of both subjects, back in those days. It was only natural that we spent a lot of time together, and besides..."

"Besides, what?" Mel demanded.

"No, we'll leave that out of our conversation, if you don't mind. You could say that Gail and I had a few other personal traits in common that probably affected us more than you or most people will ever know."

"What...?"

"Mel, leave it, will you? Or I will take my bags and get off this bleeding tub right now!" I said angrily.

I don't know what Melanie made of my little outburst, because she did literally shut up. But the expression on her face was one of complete confusion. It didn't strike me at the time, but on reflection later. I suppose I figured that I'd been carrying a lot of excess baggage around with me for a very long time.

An expression that reminded me somewhat of a spoilt child came over Melanie's face. Then she grabbed some items from one of the dresser drawers, went into the cabin's en suite bathroom and closed the door.

I settled on the sofa that ran along one wall of the stateroom and twiddled my thumbs for a while; a very long while.

Well not exactly, having quite quickly got over my huff at remembering how the cookie crumbled when Gail and I were younger; I began to muse over the fun I'd been having all day, winding-up Melanie.

God alone knows how long Melanie was in that bathroom. I think I was all but asleep by the time she reappeared, dressed in a very... sheer (I suppose you'd call it) off-the-shoulder white satin-silk nightgown. Well, I think it was, silk?