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The hospitality of the
She was wearing a stylised, emerald green, version of the Kushtian national costume, a beaded and jewelled bodice that left her midriff bare with a long panelled skirt split to the hip so as to reveal her legs as she rolled across the bed. She grinned as my towel slipped from my hips. “Excellent,” she said, “I win!”
“What?” I said.
She pointed at my naked crotch. “
“Oh thanks,” I said. “Hang on; aren’t you supposed to be the slave?”
“Pooh!” she said sitting up on her heels and leaning forward to display a cleavage that was doing it’s best to help my insulted member to redeem its reputation. “Wives aren’t slaves in Kushtia, they are valued possessions. Anyway, you owe us an explanation.”
“Explanation?”
“We were a happy bunch of girls, enjoying making music and enjoying our own names. We meet Mr Impresario who seduces us with promises of bright lights and glamour. And instead we’re stolen away, bought by a man that insists on calling us by our stage names and flown half way across the world to heaven knows where. I think that needs explanation.”
“I don’t remember the bit about bright lights and glamour,” I said. “I think the best I offered was some better gigs. Isn’t this a better gig?” I sat down on the bed beside her.
She smiled, “Well it’s better than that pub in Southwark that’s for sure and our husband’s cute enough. Except we have to perform as the band – he’s got this karaoke machine and we all have to turn out in the gear. Getting here was completely shite as well.”
“Bad flight?” She seemed quite happy for me to run my hand up her leg in the general direction of her thigh.
“Not the flight, the bit before,” she said. “The being bundled up into boxes, the being fucked whenever anyone felt like it without so much as a please or thank you, the beatings and the chains. That was the shite bit.”
“Yeah well, when the
“Still, all we were ever in it for was the money and the glamour and this,” she waved at the opulence of the room’s décor, “looks like money and glamour to me.”
My hand was on the fastening of her bodice. “How do the others feel about it?”
“Mel C probably took it hardest, but even she’s coming round. She found the rape and the humiliation hard. But we all looked after her. Mel B’s been like a bitch on heat with hubby; she’s pregnant, would you believe, though hubby doesn’t know yet. Ginger – well she’s just good for a laugh anywhere and here’s no different. And Vicky, she’s has found her own little niche.”
“Yes, I saw,” I said. “What will happen to the baby? Mel’s?”
“Can you imagine? If it’s
a boy? The first son of the first son of the
The hooks on her bodice fastening finally came loose. I pushed the garment aside exposing her breasts. I cupped one in my hand. Finally she acknowledged my touch.
“That’s nice,” she said, “I like that. And,” she reached out with her hand for my now well stiffened cock, “you seem to be liking it too.”
“Yes, the only question is how far your husband’s hospitality extends,” I said sliding closer to her.
“Kushtian traditions of hospitality are
strong. The first
“And you are your husband’s property?”
“Oh yes. Even allowing for the conventions here, the wedding ceremony is quite explicit. The husband vows ‘I take this wife in ownership to keep and care for as my finest horse or hawk’, and the wife answers ‘I pledge myself to be kept and cared for.’ Besides, I’m assuming that a sum of money changed hands for arranging the match between us and our husband. In Kushtia it is usual for the husband to pay the father of the wife but I suppose all traditions have to be updated. Still,” her finger nails raked up the underside of my cock, “don’t worry about going further than my husband would wish.” She shrugged off her unfastened bodice and leant towards me waving her head backwards and forwards so that her long blonde hair brushed sensuously across my crotch. She moved her mouth towards my cock. “Well, I may have won my bet with Vicky but it seems to come up to expectations with a little encouragement. I guess I win both ways.”
I leant back and let her bring her lips down around my shaft. I didn’t know whether she had learned her techniques before she got to Kushtia or after but she was certainly more than competent. “Well,” I said, arching my back to push forward to meet her, “you’re well able to keep your head up in the fellatio stakes. Or should that be down?”
She coughed with laughter and pulled away.
“Don’t stop,” I said.
“Then don’t make me laugh, or you’ll end up being bitten,” she answered, licking her lips and bending her head to her task once more.
I was still enjoying Emma’s skills as a fellatrix when the Minister’s secretary arrived. She appeared in the room wearing a long sleeved white blouse and a floor length black skirt, her face veiled, of course under a long white scarf. She seemed to see nothing odd in Emma and myself stretched out on the bed.
Without saying anything, she passed me two envelopes, one large and thick, the other small and addressed to me. I opened it. Emma carried on trying to distract me.
I read the contents: “My Friend,” it said, “Thanks to your ingenuity I shall be enjoying a pleasant evening. I hope you will accept my thanks and the use of my secretary, Ekrana, for the evening. She may lack the sophistication of some western girls but I think you will find her amusing, nevertheless. She has also prepared a license for Clegg Enterprises but I suggest you review it at some other time; you will have plenty of other things to occupy you tonight. With best regards.”
I finished reading the letter and looked up to discover an almost naked Ekrana standing before me. She was still veiled, of course. Emma broke into a fit of giggles at the sight of my astonished look. I threw a cushion at her.
I spoke to Ekrana. “Do you speak English?” I asked.
She nodded. A laughing Emma got to her feet and ran to Ekrana’s side. She lifted the secretary’s veil sufficiently to reveal the large rubber ball strapped into her mouth.
“Can you take it off?” I asked. She nodded. “Then do so, please.” She started to fumble with the strap, Emma helped her and the ball came loose from her mouth. Ekrana quickly adjusted her veil to cover her face properly again but allowed the scarf to fall across her shoulder and down her back, giving me an uninterrupted view of her naked body. I felt the least I could do was to look appreciatively. Her skin was darker than that of many of the Kushtian’s I had met and had the soft look of a girl not long out of adolescence. Her long dark hair spilled out from around her veil; coal-black, almond shaped eyes looked unflinchingly at me. “Did the Minister say how you should entertain me?” I said.
“Don’t be silly,” said Emma, leading Ekrana across to the couch. “This is Kushtia. She’ll have been told to do whatever you please.”
“Thank you, Madam,” said Ekrana, haltingly. “It is as you say.”
“Madam!” I laughed, Emma was hardly older than the secretary.
“Don’t laugh,” Emma chided, “I am a wife
and so warrant the respect that becomes my status. Even if I wasn’t the wife of
the
“She’ll go down on me?”
“Of course.”
“Or you?”
“Yes, of course. Why? Would you like to watch us play together?”
“Yes,” I said, “of course.”
Emma gave a look of mock disapproval. “If that would amuse you,” she responded. “But as Ekrana is manacled, I should be chained as well. In Kushtia it is most improper for a wife to appear less subservient than a femnyette - oh sorry, it’s the word for an unmarried woman in Kushtian, it means “woman not yet a wife” - if they are in the presence of a man. A Kushtian wife prides herself on her subservience to her husband and those her husband chooses for her.”
“A fine idea,” I said. Emma led Ekrana towards an ornate chest. She lifted the lid to display an array of chains, straps, whips, paddles and floggers.
“This is called the Cabinet of the Marriage Bed,” Emma explained. “By tradition, the father of the bride provides the husband with the tools by which his new bride will be ruled. These were a present from your Mr Clegg to my husband. Ekrana, please use these wrist cuffs on me.”
Ekrana took the cuffs from Emma and fastened them about her wrists. As she did so, she kissed each hand in turn. Emma, seeing my approval of the girls’ intimacy, encouraged her to continue. It did not take long until all three of us were tangled together on the bed; the two girls pleasuring one another and competing to see which could delight me more. I suppose I should have had some feelings of guilt – what with leaving Tricia behind and all – but I have to say I managed to overcome them. And after all I was only trying to get to grips with Kushtian culture.
“Minister,”
I said, nursing a hangover from a great deal too much Kushtian beer and
probably an excess of unaccustomed exercise with Ekrana
and Emma. “I hope you won’t think me rude if I do not stay long; especially
after your generosity with your secretary. My flight leaves shortly and much
though I have enjoyed my visit here I must return to
“Of course, of course,” the Trade Minister replied. “I just wanted you to see a couple of things before you went back. Firstly, I thought you might like to see my new house guest.”
I assumed he was talking about Cora and, in that, I was right. He showed me out of his lounge and down a corridor towards the back of the house. Steps ran down to a basement area. Along one wall were four identical doors, three were open showing small, windowless, rooms beyond. The fourth was closed. The Minister took a key from the pocket of his jacket and unlocked the door. It swung slowly open. Inside, sat on the floor, chained by her neck to the wall and recognisable by her long dark hair in spite of her veil, was Cora Argyll. The growling grunt that she gave as the door swung back told me that she was still gagged behind her veil. Her wrists and ankles were shackled but the veil, the gag and the chains were all that she wore. The only other thing in the small room was a small bucket.
“I thought you might like to see my newest acquisition,” the Minister said. “In Kushtia there is a long tradition of public officials having concubines. The pressures of public duty are onerous. Holders of public office need to be able to relax. They have their wives to raise their families and run their households but for more recreational female company, a Minister needs more than wives.” Cora grunted her objections furiously. “They are a great aid to the process of public administration. I may have a difficult meeting. Perhaps one of my colleagues is trying to pursue a misguided policy. There may be a complicated matter of legislation to consider. All these things are best dealt with if the Minister is relaxed and in good humour. Ministerial concubines provide an important public benefit. I have no difficulty in justifying to myself the cost to the public purse. And since we expect to do much business with your country, I felt it would be only helpful to have one of your compatriots in my service.”
“She seems a little less than willing, Minister,” I said, noting how Cora was now almost growling through her gag.
“It will be a while,” the Minister said with an air of regret, “until she can take up her duties fully. I fear that western girls need much help in learning our local ways. They have many mistaken ideas and it takes time for them to see the value of the Kushtian culture. Fortunately Kushtian tradition says that once a woman has been chosen as a concubine the man can take his pleasures with her as he will, so she can still be of use as she becomes better acquainted with her new role. Of course, a concubine is not a wife; she still has to wear her veil.”
“I trust that will not be too much of an inconvenience.”
“It has not proved so, this far,” said the Minister with a grin. “In spite of her relative inexperience, she has managed to bring me pleasure on four occasions since she arrived here yesterday. I have managed to find parts of her body unencumbered by her veil. She is most lively in her service. She feigns resistance of course but that is only to be expected. She knows a Kushtian man values the sense of conquest. I can tell she will soon be able to fulfil many of her duties. An excellent start.”
The Minister walked across to where Cora was sitting on the floor. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. She grunted and tried to break free. “I wanted to ask your advice.”
“Of course Minister,” I responded.
“Do you think I should have one or both of her nipples pierced?” He pushed her trailing veil back to give us both a clear view of her breasts. They were well rounded; firm, like small grapefruit.
I gave the matter some thought. I hardly considered myself an expert but I was enjoying the prospect of the almost naked Cora. She tried to wriggle free of the Minister’s grasp. He laughed and wrenched her head back. “Both, I think Minister. I think she would look well carrying rings or perhaps small bells to announce her presence.”
“A fine thought, my friend, a fine thought. I shall take your advice.” Cora groaned in despair. The Minister took no notice and spun her around. “And her owner’s mark? Here?” he asked pointing first to Cora’s left buttock and then to the right. “Or here?”
“You might consider marking her belly,” I ventured entering into the spirit of the discussion in aw ay that Cora evidently found as disturbing as the Minister found engaging. “If you intend to use her mainly from the front, I think it is nice to see the mark there. Like the badge in the middle of a car’s steering wheel.”
The Minister laughed. “A splendid idea. I shall suggest the Minister of Transport does the same with his concubines.”
I thought back to the circumstances of Cora’s acquisition. “Will it not be difficult keeping her here? With your contacts with the Ambassador and so on.”
“No. She will not remain here in Kolin. I have a country estate. She will take up residence there at first. There is adequate accommodation for her while she is learning her place. Not perhaps as comfortable as here in town, but she will be able to learn her new skills, un-distracted by the concerns of the city.”
I looked at the bare concrete walls of the room that Cora currently occupied and wondered what could be less comfortable. Cora gave a gagged moan of distress to the Minister’s amusement. “You see, she retains her spirit. That is good. Rest quietly girl, you will have the opportunity to pleasure me later, do not worry.” Cora squealed in frustrated defiance. The Minister grinned again.
“Come now,” he said. “We must not disturb her meditation any longer. A new concubine must spend much time in thoughts of how she will bring her man pleasure. And besides there was something else I wanted to show you.”
He led the way back upstairs and back into his lounge. From behind his desk he pulled out a battered black brief case. “It was this,” he said.
I
took the case from him and looked at it. On the flap it carried an embossed
version of the
“We assume so. It was found in the back of her car.”
“Should it not be returned to the Ambassador?” I asked.
“Yes, yes, I am sure it should but I thought you might like to see inside it first.”
I undid the catch and pulled back the flap. I tipped the contents of the bag onto the table in front of me. The collection of file folders was hardly surprising. What was more unexpected was the contents of a small leather pouch – six cable ties, a pair of handcuffs, a roll of duct tape, a hypodermic syringe in a case and a series of grainy, black and white photographs of me.
“Ah,” I said. “I see what you mean.”
“I take it you were unaware of Ms. Argyll’s intentions?”
“You take it correctly. I think I need to discuss this development with Mr Clegg when I get back. I trust it won’t interfere with your enjoyment of your new concubine.”
The Minister laughed “Not at all, not at all, Mr Ross. We have a saying here, ‘a concubine’s life begins with her man’. The young lady’s past is of no concern to me. We must both look to the future. Of course we will let Mr Clegg know if she should happen to mention any piece of information that might indicate the reason for her interest in you. However, you had better be careful between here and the airport. To assist you, my friend the Interior Minister has arranged to provide an escort. I suggest you take the Ministerial car from here. I will have your bags collected from the hotel. We take a dim view of those who seek to interfere with our trading partners.”
“Thank you Minister,” I said, relieved.
“And here is your escort.” A woman police officer came in. Well stacked, I thought. I wondered if she was the ‘34C’ I’d left the Wonderbra for. “Sergeant Dobranin here will see you get safely to the airport. She’s been doing an excellent job for us, helping with our crack down on drunken driving,” said the Minister, so I realised, of course, that she was.
Sergeant Dobranin smiled. She took her sunglasses from her shirt pocket and put them on.
“Splendid,” I said as Dobranin led the way to the Minister’s Hummvee. “You must tell me about your latest arrest.” I hoped that what she had to say would amuse me. I wanted something to take my mind off the Rachel situation and what looked like my own problems as well.
The Air Kushtia return flight wasn’t much better than the flight out. I emerged from the Arrivals Channel in Heathrow Terminal 3 to see Harry waiting. “Hi,” I said.
He grunted, “I was your wet nurse, now I’m your babysitter. Clegg thought you might need a lift.”
“Well thanks. I’m sure I’m fine,” I responded.
Harry grabbed one of my bags. ”Not with your track record. Anyway you need to be in the Whitechapel office.” He pointed to a car parked outside the terminal. I got in the back, Harry followed. Tricia was driving.
“Hi,” she said, “welcome back. Good trip?” She wasn’t too effusive, neither of us liked to parade our relationship while we were at work. It wasn’t like it was a secret or anything; we just preferred to get on with the day job when we were working.
“Thanks,” I said. “Yeah sure. It’s a very different place.”
Tricia pulled out of the airport and down
onto the M4, heading into
He grunted in response. “If you’re worried about your writer we’ve got her back.”
“Great,” I said, “Did she get far?”
“No, not too far but we had a hell of a job getting her back. She found a way to fuck up the chip in her collar. Seb’s still trying to work out how she did it. It meant we couldn’t use tracers. We had to use dogs for fuck’s sake! We haven’t done that for ages. You remember that farm we went to on your first pick up? We keep a few there but they were definitely off-form. First work they’d done for a while and too many dog biscuits, if you ask me.”
I looked down at my own waist line. The past few days hadn’t helped. The Kushtian’s hospitality meant I’d put on a few pounds and the exercise with Emma and Ekrana hadn’t had enough of a compensating effect.
“Still in some ways it was fun. It’s good to go back to first principles occasionally. I haven’t had to do any field tracking for a while. I guess she’d thought she’d be OK without the collar chip, she didn’t go far. We were pretty certain she hadn’t got clear, we’d have heard through some of Freddie’s contacts in the police if she’d got far and that would got very complicated. We thought she was probably holed up in the woods at the back of the Prep Centre; picked up some tracks going through one of the gates – girlie shoes are a bit distinctive. We thought she’d be waiting for the hue and cry to die down. So we put on a show, moved a couple of squads through the woodland, crashing about and making a noise with the dogs. Then we left things quiet for a day.”
The car pulled off the M4. Unusually the
traffic was moving and we were soon heading on through Hammersmith and down the
“Not quite,” Harry went on, “but very nearly. We left a few heat sensors around the woods and put in a couple of guys with night vision goggles. They picked her up moving around near the northern edge. Anyway to cut a long story short, they flushed her out with the dogs, we had a team by the edge of wood and she took a tranquilliser dart in the butt as she tried to track out towards the road along a hedge. Went down as easy as you like. Well, apart from the yell of “No!” as she realised she’d been hit. I had to discourage the guys from bringing her back swinging by her wrists and ankles from a pole. They get a bit gung ho with things like that. She’s back in storage now and Rick’s team are having a very detailed discussion with her about just what has gone wrong with the prep programme.”
“How’s Freddie been about it?”
“Surprisingly relaxed. But then it’s the first runner we’ve had in ages. I think maybe he feels that you need one now and then to get people back on their toes. He handed out a few ear blisterings though. People won’t forget for a while. Plus the security teams have been having regular drills again.”
“They’ll not be happy with that.”
“Well, maybe not but it’s the only way. Anyhow, I hear you’ve been busy too.”
I saw Tricia’s head give a twitch of interest. “Just a pick up for the Trade Minister,” I said, not keen to discuss Cora before I’d had a chance to show Freddie what I’d found in her case. “And I didn’t have to do too much.”
“Just as well given your previous performances,” said Harry with a smirk. “If you’re going to be doing this sort of thing you’ll need some training.”
“I wasn’t planning on it become part of the job description,” I said and looked out to see that we had arrived. Tricia stopped the car outside the office in Whitechapel. Harry and I got out. I gave Tricia a smile. She waved back and drove off.
We pushed passed a group of people on the pavement. One of their number was holding forth waving at the surrounding buildings. “And just here,” he said, “were plotted some of the most violent crimes ever recorded against women.”
I was looking over my shoulder, puzzled as we made our way into the building. “Jack the Ripper Tour,” said Harry.
“I was worried there for a minute,” I said, “I thought someone had done too good a job promoting our activities.”
Five minutes later I was in Clegg’s office. Ellie was with him. “You’re going to find things a bit dull after Kushtia, I suspect,” said Clegg.
“Well everyone was very hospitable,” I responded with a smile.
“We got your writer back.”
“So I hear. I suppose Seb’s OK?”
“Oh yes. I think he got over his encounter with Sarah quicker than his encounter with me. They’ll all have learned a few things from that.”
“I guess so.”
“And you were able to help out the Trade Minister, I understand. He called me. He seemed very happy.”
“I thought it was the right thing to do.”
Ellie got to her feet, stubbed her cigarette in Clegg’s ashtray and blew a stream of smoke from her cigarette in the general direction of the window. “I’ll let you boys get on with talking shop.” She said. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”
“OK,” said Freddie.
“Can I drop a license agreement off with you later?” I asked. “It’s something the Kushtian’s gave me. It’ll give us preferred supplier status out there.”
Ellie gave me a pained look. “I can just imagine what Kushtian legal documents are like. I’ll have a look at it but heaven knows what we’ll have to do to make sure we’re properly covered.”
“Do what you can, Ellie,” Freddie chipped in. “This could be good for us. If we’re not having to invest I don’t think we’ll want to beat them up to hard on terms and conditions. Let me know if there’s anything really troublesome.”
“Sure,” said Ellie. “I’ll mug up on their legal system. Larry, if you can drop the license by when you’ve finished here.”
“Sure,” I said. Ellie left us. I turned back to Clegg. “You said the Minister was happy.”
“Well yes. It caused a few ripples in the Diplomatic Corps, though. They tend to be a bit sensitive about that sort of thing you know.”
“Sorry. I hadn’t realised they were off limits. She might have worked out what was going on, you know. I mean she translated the whole thing with the Minister’s tongue hanging out and practically dribbling on her.”
“Yes, the Trade Minister mentioned that she wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box.”
“There was one other thing.”
“Uh huh?”
“You hadn’t told me this was going to be fucking dangerous.” I dumped Cora’s pouch on the table between us. Clegg opened it and peered at the contents.
“Of course it’s fucking dangerous,” he said calmly. “To the best of my reckoning you’ve been involved in the abduction of twenty two women – twenty three including your friend in Kushtia - since joining us. You’re doing things that will mean some of our competitors feel a bit more squeezed than they would like to. In this business they don’t just write a letter to the local chamber of trade if they feel the competition is getting a bit keen. I’d take it as a complement if I were you.”
I grunted, unconvinced. Clegg went on. “Still never mind about that now. I’ll get Harry to look at it later. I want you to sit in on today’s executive committee meeting and give us an update on the marketing projects.”
It was the first time I’d sat in on an Exec. Clegg had handled the meetings up until then.
It was about as entertaining as these things usually are – that is not at all, except for the usual combination of aggression between peers and fawning to the boss. What was interesting though was the extent to which some of my initial conceptions seemed to be being borne out by data.
Rick was there to run through what was going on in the Prep Centre. He trotted out a series of statistics on cell occupancy, time from intake to shipment and internal shipments versus external shipments. He spent quite a while on the tightening up of security measures after Rachel’s run. He seemed to be well on top of the logistical issues but the numbers sounded like they were going the wrong way to me. Harry’s review of field operations didn’t have any surprises and he seemed happy with the new intake of trainees, which I assumed included Tricia. The CFO – I’d not met him before - gave a run down on the finances and, while cash intake was down, costs seemed to be under control. He was complaining that IT were spending too much time on research projects and not enough on the new accounting system. Freddie listened sympathetically and smiled at me.
Brian’s pitch on the situation in sales didn’t get such an easy ride. Freddie had evidently asked him for some numbers on average prices and on how they compared with the number of buyers present at the sales. He hooked up his PC to the projector and started to run through an interminable number of graphs, pie charts and other diagrams. The presentation didn’t make encouraging viewing. As I had suggested; the fewer the buyers, the lower the margins. And it was evident from Brian’s data that the number of buyers had been steadily falling over the previous year. What was worse, when Freddie pressed him, he didn’t appear to have any thoughts on what to do about it. Freddie concluded the session with a “well let’s hear if Marketing can get us out of this. Larry can you take us through what you’ve been up to…”
Brian looked pretty pissed off as I got to my feet. Elly, who had sat through the whole meeting without saying a word, leant across and whispered something to Clegg. “Morning everyone,” I said. “I’m going to have to apologise to those of you who were looking forward to a real marketing presentation but I haven’t got any slides, so no death by PowerPoint, I’m afraid. I just thought I’d talk things through if that’s OK?”
The rest of the meeting looked relieved.
I ran through the SWOT analysis just as I had with Freddie and then put a bit more detail on what I intended to do about it. I didn’t mention the idea of closing down the Sales Centre, I thought I’d leave that to Freddie at some other time. I didn’t go through any of Rachel’s stuff as I hadn’t really had a chance to review it properly but I gave them some feedback on the first experiences with using an account management approach with the Kalinin; how the initial contact had led to the acquisition of the five All Spice girls and then the extra six for the ministers and the Jewel Questors project and not one auction for any of them. And now there was the opportunity for an overall contract with Kushtia. I ran the video and gave them a demonstration of the web site. “Sorry if this has held up your accounting system,” I said to the CFO.
“No problem,” he said. “This is good stuff, but we’re going to have to work out how to fund it properly.”
“Yes,” said Freddie, “I think you’re right. We must give it some thought. Brian, you need to work out how you’re going to support this too.” He scowled but said nothing.
Back in my office I thought about the meeting. I’d felt it went well although Brian had a bit of a hard time. I didn’t really have time to worry about him though. There was an email for me from Steve Glennis, forwarded from the encrypted area of the member’s web site. “I’ve got that project for you, we talked about,” it said. “I’ve been through the search facilities – great stuff, by the way – and there isn’t anything I can find. Give me a call when you’re free and I’ll run you through it.”
I looked at my watch,
“Steve,” I said, “It’s Larry. You said you might need some help.”
Steve was as friendly as ever. I asked him about his pony school. “That,” he said, “brings us right to the point.”
“I’d have thought you should be able to find suitable candidates on the site,“ I said. “You can specify the physical characteristics, hair colour, that sort of thing.”
“No, that’s not the problem,” he said. “That’s all fine. In fact I’ve put in a request through the site for a quote on a couple of dark mares, just for a different look, you know. No, what this is for is a carriage driver. I know the site picks up hobbies and interests but this is a bit specialised, I’m looking for someone to drive a carriage for me competitively and something to give the stables a bit of class, if you know what I mean.”
I grunted in response and then asked, “How about looks?”
“Well, she’ll need to be easy on the eye, obviously, but nothing too specific in that direction. Just if you’re going trawling in the British aristocracy don’t find me one of those women that looks more like a horse than the horses. When do you think you can give me some ideas?”
“We’ll need to do some research,” I said. “Let me get back to you in a week with some ideas.”
“That’ll be fine, Larry,” Steve said. “Gotta go now though. Just heard the seaplane,”
“OK,” I said, “talk to you soon.”
Steve’s call was good news as far as I was concerned. Clegg would be pleased that the new approach was generating business through the web site and for custom commissions. I had the report from Rachel to go through as well. At least she’d finished the reports on her interviews with Sukie before she went over the wall. There were pages of it.
On the other hand, I was more concerned
about getting some sleep. After the flight back from Kushtia without any of the
comforts that I’d had on the return from the
That was until Tricia put her head around the office door. “You look like you need a good feed,” she said. “Why don’t I cook you something at the flat tonight?”
All of a sudden it seemed like a good idea. Even the comforts of Emma back in Kushtia seemed to have had something missing. “Yeah, sure, why not.” I tossed her the keys. “I’ve got some stuff to finish up here but I’ll be there by seven. Why don’t you go on ahead?”
She caught the keys, smiled, and said, “see you later,” as she left the office.
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