Between The Lines Ch. 03

5.

The hardest part about starting a new relationship is learning how to fart silently again.

Okay, maybe it's not THE toughest thing, but it's a tough one; when you've spent years' staying on your own, in the cheapest hotels, having to think about things like that comes as a shock to the system. Then, add the fact that you're not entirely sure what kind of relationship you're in, or even whether you're really in one at all and you can see that there were downsides to the situation in which I found myself.

In all fairness, there were a couple of minor benefits.

I was sleeping with probably the most beautiful woman I'd ever shared a bed with; I was staying in a mansion which was more luxurious than anything I'd seen in my life before, being waited on hand on foot and served with the kind of meals I'd never even dreamt of and I had loads of free time to scribble a few ideas and gags.

That was because, for most of the day, I was on my own. Penny was out and about quite a lot making what she called 'arrangements.' The first of them had been on Monday morning while I was still sleeping. I'd had a few drinks the night before to help me recover from the events of the day (a superb 18-year-old Macallan that, being a Philistine, I'd treated like my customary bargain-basket blends) and, from what I can recall, Mason had helped (for which read 'carried') me upstairs and laid me on the bed. Then Penny managed to remove my shoes and her father's suit before pulling the covers over me and cuddling me into a very deep sleep.

Naturally, I had a hangover. My head hurt so much that I would have cried – except that it would have removed the last drop of moisture from my body. As my vision cleared a little, I saw a jug of iced water, a glass and two tablets sitting on the bedside cabinet. There was also a little note. It read: 'Try making it to the bathroom before you throw up – it's an expensive carpet!' It was signed 'Penny,' and there was an 'x' alongside it which reassured me a lot.

By the time I'd showered, gingerly made my way downstairs and followed the scent of freshly-made coffee to the dining room, Mason was alongside the table waiting to pour some into a nice, large cup. Once again, I remembered being 'helped' up the stairs the previous evening and I immediately began to apologise for my behaviour.

"There's absolutely no need for apologies, Sir," he told me, "I've been here a number of years and I've performed the same service for various members of the household - and their guests - during that time. Miss Pendlebury asked me to inform you that she has a number of errands to undertake but she'll be returning this afternoon after she's collected your belongings from your hotel. Will you be requiring anything to eat, Sir?"

"Mason," I responded quietly, "If you could rustle up a bacon buttie, I'd really appreciate it?"

The way he said, "Of course, Sir," gave me the impression that the response would have been exactly the same if I'd requested a slice of elephant's tongue on toast. It didn't seem to perturb him in the slightest when I followed him to kitchen and watched him prepare it, nor when I sat down at the small table to enjoy it. Getting him to talk was difficult, though; especially if I tried to draw him out on anything about the Pendlebury family. It was only when I when I mentioned my profession that he began to relax.

"I know that, Mr de Ladd," he informed me, "I've seen you on stage."

"Really? Where was that?" I asked, and the answer didn't really surprise me. A couple of years earlier I'd been drafted in at the last moment to replace a comic who'd been injured in a traffic accident just a few hours before a catering industry awards show. It was a very mixed audience and I'd had to be on my best behaviour:

"So this cannibal comes home from a barbeque and he's only got one leg. "What happened?" his wife asked. "It was self-catering!"

"Old Jewish couple been married for 50 years, and the wife tells her husband she's having an affair. He says, great, are we doing the catering?"

Yeah, I know...you can stop groaning. I'd had about two hours to cobble some material together and, whatever you might think now, a free meal and a free bar made it seem a lot better to the audience. Anyway, it soon became clear that Mason had been impressed. We got along famously while I told him a few stories about things I'd seen and heard, but he had to get back to work eventually and I went for a stroll in the grounds to get some fresh air and, of course, pollute it with cigarette smoke.

Several hours later, I found my way back. Although it was an imposing building, there were a lot of places in the grounds from which the house simply wasn't visible and, being a city boy at heart, I have no sense of direction once I'm surrounded by vegetation. After I'd wearily climbed the steps and sunk gratefully onto a chair on the terrace, Mason appeared alongside me as if someone had rubbed a magic lamp and he'd just popped out. Actually, he was magic – because he placed a pot of tea and a couple of scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam on the table in front of me. I realised I'd need to think carefully about my other two wishes.

Being at the rear of the property, I didn't see Penny arrive; my only notification of it was the fierce roar of a diesel engine, a screech of brakes and the sound of the gravel driveway being ploughed by the wheels of what I later found out was a Landrover Discovery. That noise was followed by footsteps that seemed to race through the house, so quickly that I'd barely managed to persuade my aching legs to hoist me from the chair when she appeared beside me – the redness of her face as vivid as her hair, her green eyes firing laser beams in every direction and, when she halted, tension pouring from every part of her lovely frame. She seemed to be in danger of hyperventilating, and I'm not sure it helped when I asked if anyone had ever told her that she looked really beautiful when she was angry.

In fact, I think I was about to be the recipient of both verbal barrels when Mason rode to the rescue with a fresh pot of tea and some more scones. God bless the well-bred English behaviour in front of servants! If that was my second wish, it was a good one because she took a deep breath, said a polite 'thank you,' and sat down beside me.

"Keep taking the deep breaths," I instructed (trying not to look at her chest), "and tell me about it when you're good and ready."

"It's about someone called Millie von Koch!" she snapped as soon as Mason was out of earshot.

For a second or two, my mind went completely blank and I was a hairsbreadth from denying any knowledge of anyone of that name. Then something clicked, somewhere in the deepest recesses of my mind.

"Bloody hell!" I declared as a memory found its way forward uncertainly, "that's a name from the past." Then, a little uncertainly, I said; "Can I ask why?"

"Tell me first," Penny frowned and so I began to tell her what I could remember.

"Well, I can only recall what Norah said about her... and it was a few years ago. Apparently Millie... that wasn't her real name, by the way, the 'von Koch' part probably replaced something that was virtually unpronounceable... was someone who worked with my ex-wife for a while. I didn't actually meet her; but I remember being told that she had an incredibly... vulnerable look? Do you know what I mean? Dark hair, very slim, pretty... with large eyes that always seemed to be sad." I hesitated for a moment, not sure what to say next, but Penny urged me to go on.

"Well... it was during the first few months that Norah and I were married. Norah's her real name, by the way; Daly Cummings is her... erm... screen name." Penny nodded, obviously having already realised that, so I went on; "at that time Norah told me she was only doing glamour stuff and what they called 'soft porn.' You know... no actual penetration. I didn't like it, but it was what she did. I told myself I could live with that and I was sure that once I became successful.... Yeah... stupid, I know!

"Anyway, Millie von Koch was one of the lesser players. As far as I can recall she had a very brief, lesbian scene with my wife and I'm fairly sure that was all. We didn't spend much time together – I was away doing my gigs all over the place, and she was normally filming in some tiny studio in the London area.

"The first time I knew things had changed was when I received a visit from a couple of guys backstage one night. One of them just handed me a package and told me to take a look at it when I was on my own. To cut to the chase... it was a video starring 'Daly Cummings' – and it certainly wasn't 'soft porn!' Norah did just about everything you could think of doing... with about a dozen guys in that film alone! I know I lost a very good chicken tikka masala to the toilet after watching it."

"I'm sorry...." Penny started to say, but I interrupted her:

"No... let me finish. What really shook me – well, apart from the obvious – was that there seemed to be no protection; no pulling out, no condoms... nothing! Okay, some of the men did it over her face and body... but, for the most part.... Anyway," I sighed, "I wasn't able to get in touch with her for a couple of weeks and I think that's when I first began to dive into a bottle.

"When we did meet up again, I challenged her about it and... I don't know... it was like she was a different person. She wasn't the least bit bothered about what she did. She said it was great fun... she actually used that word, 'fun.' She was making loads of money... and it was a real turn-on to think of all the horny people watching her films and getting off on them.

"Seeing how horrified I was, she just laughed. She called me conventional, constrained, prudish... and a lot of other things, too. Then she compared me to Millie. Apparently, the girl had run off the set when she was asked to take part in an orgy scene with Norah and a group of men. From what I heard later, there was a lot of friction between them because Millie had something that Norah never had...."

"What was that?"

"She could act! Norah may have enjoyed what she was doing, but Millie actually had some talent. The story was that Millie had no interest in men and was only willing to do girl-on-girl scenes. The general opinion was that Norah set her up to fail – out of jealousy. I've no idea what became of her after that.

"Obviously, the marriage was over. We split up and went our separate ways; me to a disaster on nationwide TV, Norah to a few more films before she married Harold Smith, a very rich producer of porn.

"I'm guessing it was his goons who delivered the video to me that night. Apparently, he had a thing about huge tits and Norah's – although they were pretty impressive to begin with – were enormous by the time she'd had implants. The last time I heard from her, a couple of months later, she rang me to ask about a divorce. I told her to sort it out... Harold was rich enough to pay for it all. And that, believe it or not, was the last time I spoke to her until yesterday."

"Can I have one of those?" she asked as I pulled out a cigarette.

"You don't smoke," I said.

"I'm not exclusively non-smoking," she replied, which made me smile as I lit the cigarettes and saw her cough at the first taste of hers.

"Are you exclusively anything, Penny?" I asked

"Honest, Jack... I'm exclusively honest," she said with a very serious look. "I don't lie and I don't cheat. I've been surrounded by people who do that all my life, and I know the damage it does."

"So... what's the interest in Millie von Koch?" I asked, because the intensity of her statement made me a little bit uneasy.

"Okay," she coughed again and her eyes watered a bit, "I had a call from Freddie whatshisname... the one who's going to direct my script. Apparently, the production company have been absolutely insistent that Millie's going to play the lead role. He said your wife..."

"Ex-wife!"

"...Was completely emphatic about it. Oh, yeah... ex-wife... sorry, Jack. The director bloke was upset about it all. I think he'd lined up some female he's... erm... connected to."

I wasn't sure what to say, but I decided to be honest.

"Penny... you've written an excellent script... and I'm sure it's going to work. I don't know why Norah's so keen on having Millie in the role... but there comes a point when you just have to let go and let the producers and directors sort it out. It's like having a child grow up, I suppose... there comes a point when you have to set them free to stand or fall on their own account. I just can't understand why Norah and that thuggish husband of hers are so keen on...."

"You don't know do you?" she asked, stubbing the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray.

"Know what?" I asked.

"Her husband... Harold?" she raised her eyebrows in question and, when I nodded assent, went on; "he died about six months ago. Aids, apparently... but not before he'd passed the virus on to your ex! I talked to her about it last night when you were... erm...."

"Pissed?"

"That's the word," she confirmed with a slightly crooked smile. "She's on borrowed time, Jack. She's got shed loads of money and I think she wants to do something useful with her life while she can. What you told me about Millie von Koch seems to fit the pattern... she hurt her, and she wants to make it up."

"Hmmm... makes a kind of crazy sense, I suppose," I conceded.

"And that's probably why she was so delighted to see you involved in this, Jack. I think she wants to make up for some of the hurt she gave you. She doesn't seem to care how much money she throws at the project... she really wants it to be a success...."

"Am I supposed to cheer?" I asked, trying to be as cynical as I could to hide the fact that the story was getting to me a bit.

"You don't have to play the hard man with me, Jack," she smiled, "I haven't known you long... but I already know you better than that, you big softie!"

We talked a lot through that evening.

We talked about my career (if you could call it that) and about her past. I learned that she'd gone through a very wild phase in her late teens; that there had been a few heterosexual affairs that proved very unsatisfactory mainly, it seemed, because she had an uncanny knack for attracting those who wanted to dominate or stifle her. There was also a short period of experimenting with soft drugs, but she admitted to being too much of a control freak to enjoy them very much. She'd drifted into a couple of all-girl liaisons and found them to be gentler, more tender and, ultimately, more satisfying.

By the time we'd reached that point in the conversation, we were lying in bed. As the talking died away, I felt her hand reach down to what was, almost immediately, a very solid erection. Naturally, I made a movement to respond, but she whispered; "No, Jack... please... lie still," and then, "put your hands behind your head and just relax."

Like I was going to argue?

**

6.

"You've got a completely free day ahead of you," she told me on Tuesday morning as she sat on the edge of the bed. I'd already had the pleasure of watching her emerge, naked, from the shower and get dressed and I was engaged in raising the bedcovers without using my hands. "Save that for tomorrow," she grinned, observing me through her mirror.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes... tomorrow. I'm driving over to Dee's place today and we're doing some shopping. Then it's her hen party so I'll be staying at her flat overnight."

"Oh!" was all I managed and I dare say my disappointment must have been pretty obvious because she laughed and said;

"Two things, Jack. One, it's all girls... no men... otherwise I'd have asked you along; and, two... the only thing I'll be getting tonight is slightly drunk! And I'll make it up to you when I get back." Then, as she reached the door, she turned, gave a surprisingly shy smile, and added: "Who knows? Maybe even what we were talking about last night!" And then she was gone.

That didn't help me to calm down. A few moments later I climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, got into the shower, and recalled the events of the night before. The physical part of it had involved Penny kissing her way around my chest, arms and neck while her hand gently stroked my erection. Then, as she was kissing my lips and slipping her tongue inside my mouth, I was aware of a condom being put into place, just before she'd carefully straddled me.

She'd neither asked for, nor even allowed, any foreplay from me; she'd just slid into place with a soft groan of pleasure and started to gently ride me. All I'd had to do was relax – and each time I'd tried to move or respond, she'd put a gentle hand of restraint on my chest to stop me – and I'd certainly had no reason to complain. It had been slow and gentle; a kind of lovemaking that, as far as I was concerned, transcended mere sex to a millionth degree. Her climax – just the one – had been soft and sweet; marked by an agreeably warm flow of her juices and a series of mellow gasps and agreeable moans. Mine, just a couple of minutes later, had been both a merciful release and a poignant feeling of completion – a perfect ending to an act of love.

Afterwards, she'd confessed that she had considered performing oral sex – but it was something that she'd never done to a man. I'd told her not to worry, that what we'd done was perfect as far as I was concerned and that I didn't want her to do anything she didn't feel comfortable with. She'd still seemed uneasy, so I'd said:

"Listen... it's okay. It's easy for me because I know how I feel about oral sex. Personally, I love doing it. There was even one time when I took a girl's knickers off and threw them across the room... with my teeth! Y'know what she said?"

"What?"

"She said, hey... I didn't know you wore dentures!"

That had earned me an elbow in the ribs, but it was worth it.

At breakfast, I was informed that a car was at my disposal if I wished to make use of it – but my dreams of racing around the countryside in the little red Alfa Romeo were soon quashed when I was presented with the keys of a Volkswagen Passat. Not that there was anything wrong with it, it was a good car, but Mason saw my look and grinned.

"Miss Pendlebury took the Alfa, I'm afraid... and I need the 'Landy' to visit a couple of farms," he told me, adding; "there's always the 'Jag' of course... or the Bentley...."

"No... this is fine, Mason," I smiled, wondering how many cars these people had - and how big their garage was! Consideration was in evidence – a full tank of fuel – so I knew I wouldn't have any trouble reaching the end of the drive! Once I hit the road, however, the signs were surprisingly helpful. In no time at all I was onto the M25 motorway and heading towards Boreham Wood.

For those who don't know, Boreham Wood and nearby Elstree have a long history of British movie making – and although most of the studios are long closed, there are still some operating. Nowadays they are used a lot for TV programmes but they still make movies there – things like Star Wars, Indiana Jones, The Shining, Superman and, more recently, The King's Speech – but it wasn't those kind of blockbusters that I was interested in, and neither was the man I was going to see.

Jimbo 'Marianne' Mcardle had been one of the best female impersonators ever to appear on stage. He hated the expression 'drag queen' because he saw himself as a comedian first and foremost and, to be fair, he had been a damned good stand-up comic in his day. Although he was unquestionably 'gay,' he'd never been a predatory type and I'd always felt perfectly comfortable in his company (except for the odd occasion when he told me off for stealing some of his gags!). Not only that, but he'd helped me with a lot of sound advice in the early days of my career.