Acquired Tastes

by Simone Mondesir

  'Mr Beasley, you're on next.'

  'And now for our first guest who, as Dr Archibald so aptly pointed out, wants to make an exhibition of himself,' Gabriella announced. 'Leonard Beasley is a postman from Petts Wood in Kent, and his fantasy … well, I think I'll let you see for yourselves. All I will say is that it's the perfect way to begin this very first edition of Forbidden Fruit.'

  The cameras mixed through to a giant banana standing upright against a tropical green background. Four girls clad only in tiny bikinis shaped like banana leaves stood posed around it. The audience tittered with anticipation as the stage began to revolve, and the girls each slowly peeled a portion of the banana skin to reveal a beatifically smiling Leonard Beasley. His hands were in front of him, but from the way they were moving, it was not to protect his modesty.

  Philip stared in horror at the monitor, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He leaned forward. 'Can't you do something?' he whispered desperately to Hugo.

  'Any suggestions?' Hugo retorted.

  Philip sat back and mopped his face. Perhaps no one else had noticed. But as one of the cameras panned round for audience reactions, it was clear they had. He looked at the committee members. They at least seemed oblivious. Philip crossed his fingers. It would soon be over, as long as none of the cameras went into close-up.

  But as the music swelled to a tumescent climax, Mrs Proudfoot suddenly sat bolt upright and pointed at one of the monitors.

  'Sir Norman, that man is … is …' she spluttered.

  Hugo held up his hand to silence her. 'Get ready everyone,' he said into the microphone, 'I want no cock-ups with this one. Wait for it… wait for it…'

  The stage revolved to bring Beasley back full frontal to the audience.

  'Now!' barked Hugo, and the lights dimmed except for one illuminating Beasley's face and chest, which were now streaked with sweat, his face contorted. He uttered a strange guttural sound, and then the spotlight went off.

  'Hold it… hold it… and … camera one!' ordered Hugo.

  The cameras switched back to a smiling Gabriella.

  'Why a banana, Dr Archibald?'

  'The banana is perhaps the most priapic of fruits,' replied Fergus. 'Its shape is unashamedly phallic and, when its part of a bunch, it resembles a hand, all the better to touch and feel with.'

  The audience tittered.

  'And it reveals its nakedness so easily. It has no inhibitions. Unlike other fruits, which cling to their skins like born-again virgins, a banana is made for peeling.'

  The audience laughed appreciatively.

  An assistant floor manager rushed over to Vijay who was waiting off-stage. She grabbed him by the arm.

  'You've got to get that man off the studio floor, he's just sitting there staring into space,' she hissed.

  'But that's your job,' Vijay protested. He had been craning his neck trying to see where Alicia and Jeremy were sitting in the audience, but he couldn't see either of them.

  'Not likely,' the floor manager said pulling him across the studio floor. 'Keep the applause going,' she muttered into her talkback, 'the floor isn't clear yet.'

  Vijay looked down at Beasley who was sitting in the centre of the banana skin in a dreamlike trance, smiling happily to himself. Vijay tapped him on the shoulder.

  'That was wonderful,' sighed Beasley then he looked up: 'How was it for you?'

  As Vijay hurried the beaming postman away, Gabriella was introducing the next part of the show.

  'And now for a short film about a woman who is sent into a frenzy of desire by this.' She held up a can of whipped cream and pressed the button.

  As rehearsed, the camera went into close-up on the can, but instead of spurting cream, a drop of watery liquid trickled out.

  The audience laughed.

  'Will someone get that bloody cream sorted out,' Hugo yelled into the microphone, 'and tell Gabriella we'll take that introduction again from the top.'

  An assistant floor manager appeared with half a dozen cans of cream, which Gabriella and Fergus proceeded to shake and press.

  Seizing the opportunity, Mrs Proudfoot stood up and placed her hands on her formidable hips.

  'I think we've seen enough. This is monstrous. It must stop at once.'

  Sir Norman nodded vigorously. 'I heartily concur. I could not countenance this ever being broadcast.'

  Basil Grimshaw delicately cleared his throat, 'Without wishing to sow further dissension in the ranks, I think we should consider seeing the whole programme. I feel it is the only way we can make an informed judgement. Presumably it will be edited at a later stage, allowing for any unfortunate errors to be excised?'

  They all looked at Philip, but he seemed to be gazing at something very far away, an unhealthy sheen on his face.

  'Is he quite all right?' enquired Mrs Proudfoot.

  'Of course he is,' Vanessa snapped, wishing Philip didn't look quite so vacant. 'If you want to leave, you had better go now, or else you must stay for the rest of the recording.'

  Mrs Proudfoot looked uncertainly at Sir Norman, but he showed no signs of moving so she sat down again, placing her handbag firmly on her knees.

  'Are we ready to go?' Hugo demanded impatiently into his microphone.

  On one of the monitors, the floor manager gave the thumbs up sign and then addressed the audience.

  'Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. Now if you look up at the monitors above your heads, you will be able to see the short film which Miss Wolfe is going to introduce.'

  The audience craned their necks upwards as Gabriella began the introduction. This time the cream spurted and oozed to Hugo's satisfaction.

  'Run insert A,' Rosie instructed, and looking at her stop watch counted: 'Five, four, three, two, run VT…'

  Gabriella and Fergus settled back on their couch to watch.

  In the back row of the audience, Alicia gripped Jeremy's arm tightly and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, two out-of-focus figures could be seen on the screen. They both appeared to be female, even if the portly one with her back to the camera and dressed in a tight red corset, was remarkably hirsute and bow-legged for a woman. The second, much slimmer woman, who was completely naked and all fours, was being led around on a leash like a dog.

  Up in the gallery, Vanessa had leapt to her feet and was standing beside Hugo. 'What on earth's going on?' she demanded. 'The quality of this film is terrible, I thought it was meant to be about…' her voice trailed away as she watched the screen.

  The women were now facing the camera and one was bearded. The second one was wearing a mask, but looked ominously familiar.

  'One of those women looks just like Dr Archibald,' Philip said in a strange, singsong voice. He looked over at Vanessa and then back at the screen, screwing up his face as though he was trying to concentrate. 'And isn't that…?' He pointed to the screen. The masked figure was now doing a fair imitation of a dog begging.

  Vanessa's eyes bulged as she stared transfixed at the screen with her mouth open.

  'It's her.' Mrs Proudfoot leapt to her feet and pointed at Vanessa. 'And that drunk.' She grabbed Vanessa's arm, screeching hysterically: 'Filth, obscenity, Sodom and Gomorrah…'

  Vanessa tried to shake her off but Mrs Proudfoot clung to her, shrieking loudly. Vanessa struck her hard across the mouth.

  Mrs Proudfoot staggered back in amazement, and then collapsed on to Sir Norman before sliding slowly to the floor.

  Down in the studio, pandemonium had broken out. All the journalists were on their feet, yelling questions at Fergus.

  He was staring at the screen in astonishment. Then a smile began to spread across his face and he threw back his head and began to roar with laughter.

  'Stop it. For God's sake, somebody stop it!' Vanessa yelled, recovering her voice. But nobody moved.

  She lunged at the controls, punching switches and buttons. For a few seconds a naked image of her was frozen on the screen, and then everything went black.
>
  At the back of the audience, Alicia smiled serenely and put down the bar of chocolate she had been eating. The taste in her mouth was even sweeter.

  One Week Later

  Alicia and Jeremy were sitting up in bed munching cinnamon and raisin Danish pastries, avidly engrossed in the Sunday newspapers. Suddenly, Alicia squealed loudly, her mouth full of warm pastry. She gestured at the front page of the World on Sunday.

  The headline read: TV FANTASY SERIES IS REAL SEX SCORCHER

  “A horrified audience watched last Sunday as glamorous 36-year-old brunette divorcee, TV producer Vanessa Swift, and sex doctor Fergus Archibald indulged in torrid full-frontal, sado-masochistic sex games when a home video got muddled up with tapes destined to be part of TV's first sex fantasy show, Forbidden Fruit.

  “The show's executive producer, Philip Pryce, was rushed to hospital with a suspected heart attack, while members of the TV watchdog committee who had come along to monitor proceedings had to be treated for shock.

  “Mrs Mildred Proudfoot, the battling blonde granny who heads a viewers' clean-up campaign, says she will be considering taking legal action on the grounds of obscenity and mental cruelty. But the newly-appointed producer of the show, Vijay Seth, says he intends to carry on with the series, although he may take a new approach to the subject.

  “The show's presenter, glamorous transsexual Gabriella Wolfe, whose other life was revealed exclusively to World on Sunday readers last week, declined to say if she would remain as the show's star. However, in yet another twist to the story, Gabriella was photographed leaving one of London's most exclusive restaurants with randy doctor Fergus, after an intimate tête-à-tête this week.

  “There was no comment either from long-legged, lovely Vanessa, the producer with a penchant for dog collars of the canine variety. Our chief showbiz reporter, Eddie Spittle, tracked her down to a luxury hotel in an exclusive resort in the Caribbean, where her personal publicist said she is considering substantial offers from several glamour magazines to do a centrefold spread, complete with dog collar.

  “But until sexy Vanessa reveals all once again, we bring World on Sunday readers exclusive pictures from the hottest video on town. Turn to pages 2, 3 and 4.”

  The pictures were blurred and had been extensively retouched, but they were unmistakably from Vanessa and Fergus's video.

  Jeremy looked at Alicia. Her eyes were closed.

  'Are you all right?' he asked anxiously. 'You shouldn't let this silly business upset you again.'

  Alicia opened her eyes. 'It doesn't. I just caught the smell of someone frying bacon. I'm starving.'

  Jeremy inhaled deeply. The smell of tender sweet, sizzling bacon wafted in through the window. His mouth watered.

  Alicia swept the newspapers off the bed and rolled over. She kissed him full on the lips.

  'How about some eggs…' she murmured, nuzzling his neck. Then she began to rain souffle-light butterfly kisses over his chest, '…and some bacon…' She worked her way lower, down over his now satisfyingly round stomach, '…and maybe some mushrooms…'

  Jeremy closed his eyes in pleasure.