by Judy Nunn
‘I bought them especially for you,’ she’d said, ‘and they’ll make the flat feel homey.’ She was right, they did.
‘Is there a bathroom?’ Lisa asked, she was dying for a pee.
‘Through there.’ Kit indicated the door to the right of the entrance which led into a tiny bathroom. ‘The en suite,’ Tess O’Malley had proudly announced when she’d showed him the flat.
He opened the bottle of riesling he’d bought the previous day in the hope that Lisa would come home with him and, by the time she’d returned from the bathroom, he’d filled the two wine glasses which he’d also purchased the previous day.
They sat on the sofa, clinked glasses and sipped.
‘How did you win your medal?’ Lisa asked.
‘Eh?’ Kit was nonplussed by the question.
‘Janice’s dad says you’re a war hero.’ Kit looked blankly at her. ‘You’ve met Janice,’ she prompted him. ‘My girlfriend who comes into the office sometimes, we have lunch together. You know,’ she seemed a little frustrated that Janice didn’t spring immediately to his mind, ‘Janice Rowlands, she works in the post office.’
‘Oh. Janice. Yes.’
‘Well her dad says you won a medal for bravery. Janice reckons that’s fantastic.’
‘Oh.’ Kit took another sip of his wine, he really didn’t like white wine, he thought as he wondered how to change the conversation.
‘So what did you win it for?’
There was only one way. He put the glass down on the floor and stared at her intensely for a moment.
‘You’re terrific looking, Lisa,’ he said. It worked. She smiled, gave a gentle scoff and shook her head in that pseudo-self-deprecating way girls sometimes did when they wanted to hear more.
‘You really are, you’re beautiful.’ He studied the lustre of her hair and the darkness of her thick-lashed eyes and the fullness of her mouth. ‘Very, very beautiful,’ he repeated softly as he ran his finger along the curve of her jawline and down her neck. He meant it, she was glorious, and he desired her immensely.
Kit Galloway had always had success with women. His unassuming air won them from the outset, he appeared completely unaware of the impact he had on the opposite sex. He was easygoing, friendly, non-threatening, and sometimes frustrating to women who expected flirtation. As a result, they were overwhelmed to discover, when he finally did make a move, that he was a skilful lover. He’d not worked hard to perfect the art of seduction, it came naturally to him. He was honest in his admiration. He genuinely loved women. He loved the look of them, the feel of them, the taste and the smell of them. He loved making love to women.
Lisa, mesmerised by his intensity, had been watching him study her. Finally she gave a self-conscious giggle, still unable to take her eyes from his as they wandered from her throat to her breasts. ‘I know what you’re after, Kit Galloway.’
Kit gazed at the slight moistness he could see between the cleavage which pouted from the scooped neck of her T-shirt. It was a hot humid night. ‘Yes,’ he said, and he took the glass of wine from her, placing it beside his on the floor.
Lisa was accustomed to chatting for a while before she did it. She was good at flirting. That was what a girl was supposed to do. It was part of the game. Then you pretended that you were taken by surprise, and it just happened. She was about to say something but suddenly he was kissing her, his tongue gently exploring her mouth, his hand caressing her breast, soft but insistent fingers finding her responsive nipple, and Lisa’s rules of etiquette went out the window.
The white wine tasted different mingled with her saliva, Kit thought, it tasted womanly and desirable, and he could feel her nipple hardening beneath the thin lace of her brassiere. He knew that he’d have to keep himself in check, it had been so long and she felt so good.
They didn’t bother to pull the bed out, they undressed each other and made love on the sofa.
At twenty-three Lisa Langello considered herself a modern young woman, it was the age of sexual liberation, after all, and she’d made love on sofas before, and on floors, and once in the backseat of a Holden. She and her friend Janice shared a theory that sofas, floors and car seats constituted ‘quickies’ and were never as good as when a man wooed you properly, taking you out to dinner and then back to his place for drinks and intimate conversation before the ultimate seduction. ‘Well, it’s polite for starters,’ Janice maintained, ‘and it certainly gets you more in the mood.’ Lisa had agreed. But tonight, as she felt herself teased beyond endurance, as every fibre in her quivered with a desire she’d never known, as she heard her animal moans of pleasure and felt her muscles contracting in waves of fulfillment, the theory’s credibility was forever undermined.
They lay in a heap on the sofa, chests heaving, skin slippery with mingled sweat and then, when he’d recovered himself, Kit rose, pulling her gently to her feet, and kissed her.
‘I’ll make the bed up,’ he said.
‘Okay,’ for once Lisa was lost for words.
They lay naked on the bed with just a sheet over them and she nuzzled herself into the crook of his shoulder, he loved the feel of her there.
As they lightly dozed off in each other’s arms, Kit realised that he’d been lonely. He’d never really been in love. In fact he wasn’t sure if he knew what ‘being in love’ was, but he’d very much missed having a woman in his life. In his state of semi-sleep, he ran his fingers along the silken curve of Lisa’s hip. So beautiful.
She raised her head drowsily and looked at him as he gazed at the ceiling. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.
‘You,’ he said. And they made love again.
‘Not a good idea, Kit,’ Nick Coustas warned.
‘What?’
‘Screwing a bird from work.’ Nick was always direct.
Kit tried to ignore him, but Maxie’s advice, although more tastefully voiced, was the same.
‘Girlfriends and work don’t mix, mate, you should know that.’
‘We’re just going out together,’ Kit said, attempting to dodge the issue, but they were right and he knew it. In fact he was already in trouble. He and Lisa had been sleeping together on a weekly basis for four months now, and she was starting to suggest they move in together.
Kit had been taken aback when she’d first proposed the idea, but as usual he’d decided that honesty was the best policy.
‘I’m not ready to live with anyone, Lisa.’
‘Oh don’t be silly,’ she said, ‘I don’t mean live together like that!’
‘Like what?’
‘Like a couple, you know. I’m not asking you to commit yourself or anything.’
Surely that’s exactly what she was asking, Kit thought. They were sleeping together, after all.
‘It’s just that I’m sick of sharing with that bunch of yobbos in Mitchell Street, and you’re sick of this pokey little flat and we could find a really beaut place if we shared the rent.’
‘But I’m not sick of this pokey little flat.’ He loved his pokey little flat. And he loved his independence.
‘Oh all right,’ she said huffily, ‘be like that!’ But minutes later she was snuggling up to him again. ‘I hate it when we fight.’ He didn’t know it had been a fight.
They made love and the subject was forgotten. Until a week later. And then the week after that. But Kit refused to give in, he could be very stubborn when he wished.
The fact was, Lisa did want a commitment. She hadn’t really realised it until Janice had pointed out what a catch Kit Galloway was.
‘Terence Galloway’s son! Jeez, Lisa, you’re mad if you don’t grab him. You said yourself, everyone at work reckons he’s going places, and he’ll get all of his Dad’s money one day.’ Janice had even told her she should get pregnant, ‘he’d have to marry you then.’ But Lisa didn’t go off the pill. She didn’t want to get pregnant. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to get married, she’d always felt she was destined to be something more than a housewife. But she al
ways listened to Janice, and if Janice said Kit Galloway was such a catch then of course she was mad if she didn’t try to snare him.
‘This is Lisa, Dad. Lisa Langello.’
‘How do you do, Mr Galloway.’ Lisa all but dropped a curtsy. She’d been nagging Kit for ages to introduce her to his father, and he’d finally taken her along to Galloway Motors on a Saturday morning. She’d rather he’d invited her to dinner at the big house in Larrakeyah, but he said he didn’t go there much himself.
‘Ah, you’re the girlfriend,’ Terence loudly declared as he took her hand warmly in both of his. ‘Hello, Lisa.’
Lisa beamed and nodded. So Kit had been talking about her to his father, that was good.
Terence had actually heard the news from Aggie who’d met the girlfriend a number of times.
‘A lass who works at the newspaper,’ she’d simply said, ‘they’ve been going out for a good six months now.’
Terence had had the feeling that Aggie didn’t altogether approve of the girlfriend. He could see why. She oozed sexuality. Aggie Marshall, dried up old prune that she was, would probably have preferred to see Kit with a scholarly, bespectacled type. Terence himself was surprised that Kit could attract a girl like Lisa Langello. What could she possibly see in him?
‘Why don’t we come up to my office for a coffee?’ he suggested and, without waiting for an answer, he led the way.
‘What a lovely office,’ Lisa said admiringly. Office, she thought, it was a bloody movie set, no-one she knew had an office like this. Leather armchairs, mahogany desk, a bar in the corner, and what about the view! She wandered over to the plate-glass windows and looked down at the rows of shiny vehicles on the showroom floor. ‘Fantastic,’ she said.
‘Yes, it’s rather impressive, isn’t it?’ Terence agreed, he liked it when people admired the showroom. ‘Business is doing very well at the moment. Booming in fact. The market’s good. Sit down, Lisa, please, you too, Kit.’ He gestured to the armchairs and they sat. ‘Coffee’s on its way, anyone like anything a little stronger?’ He crossed to the bar to pour himself a Scotch.
‘Bit early for me, Dad, coffee’ll do fine,’ Kit said.
‘Lisa? How about a champagne?’ Lisa gave a breathless giggle, it wasn’t even lunchtime. ‘Come on,’ Terence urged, ‘it’s not every day a man meets his son’s girlfriend.’
‘All right, just a little one.’
‘That’s my girl.’
The secretary arrived with the pot of coffee and three cups as Terence eased the cork out of the vintage Krug. ‘Just pour the one, thank you, Dora,’ he said, and when she’d gone he tapped his Scotch glass against Lisa’s champagne flute. ‘Cheers,’ he said.
‘Am I the only one having champagne? Oh, you shouldn’t have opened the bottle for me.’
‘If you don’t finish it, my dear, then we’ll simply throw it out.’
Christ he was laying it on thick, Kit thought.
Lisa sipped at her champagne, it tasted different to the bubbly she normally drank, she was sure it was the real stuff.
‘It’s all thanks to television,’ Terence announced as he sat behind his desk.
Lisa looked at him blankly. What was?
‘He means the boom in the market,’ Kit explained.
‘Exactly.’ Terence resisted the urge to scowl, he’d been waiting for the girl’s enquiry and Kit had stolen his moment of triumph. But he curbed his irritation. ‘Television advertising most certainly changed the face of the marketplace …’ It was true, since the arrival of television in Darwin two years previously Terence’s profits had doubled. ‘… but everyone’s on the bandwagon now, you have to be innovative. And that’s exactly what we’re doing. I haven’t told you yet have I, Kit?’ He grinned excitedly at his son.
Told him what, Kit wondered. He hadn’t seen his father this enthusiastic in years. He was about to enquire, but Terence continued, once again directing his attention to Lisa.
‘We’ll be launching a whole new campaign next month,’ he said. ‘A campaign based on personality. You see it’s not just the products one needs to sell. It’s the face of the person who sells the products.’ He was directly quoting the advertising specialists he’d employed. ‘Who instills you with trust? Who do you want to do business with? Who do you like and respect the most?’
He was firing the questions directly at her and Lisa wondered whether she was expected to come up with the answers. Fortunately not.
‘It’s all a matter of image!’ he triumphantly pronounced.
Terence’s excitement was genuine. He’d flown a top advertising team up from Sydney a month previously and they were already filming the first batch of commercials to go to air in time for the November sales and the Christmas market. Terence Galloway, the face of Galloway Motors and Emporium. The prospect of television fame excited Terence as much as did the advertising expert’s guarantee of a massive boost in sales.
‘The image of the person you trust!’ He rose from his desk and crossed to the bar.
‘So will you be on television yourself, Mr Galloway?’ Lisa asked. She was terribly impressed.
‘Terence, my dear, please.’
Lisa momentarily pictured herself out with Janice. They’d bump into Mr Galloway and she’d introduce him. ‘Janice, this is Mr Galloway.’ Then she’d say, ‘How are you, Terence?’ She could just see the look on Janice’s face.
‘Yes, I shall most certainly be on television,’ he said as he topped up her glass. ‘What do you think, Kit?’ He turned to his son, arms theatrically outstretched, Krug bottle in hand. ‘Terence Galloway! The face of Galloway Motors and Emporium.’
Kit laughed, it was good to see his father in such a jovial mood. ‘So that’s why you’ve bunged on the new hairdo,’ he said. His father’s thick grey hair was elegantly styled and Kit was sure it was a touch more silver in hue than when he’d last seen him. ‘You look like an elder statesman.’
Terence was aware it wasn’t altogether meant as a compliment, but the image of elder statesman pleased him so he took it as one. Lisa obviously agreed.
‘Yes, you look very distinguished,’ she said. She wanted to add ‘Terence’, but she couldn’t quite muster the courage.
‘Thank you, my dear.’
Terence gave a mock bow and Lisa returned him one of her most radiant smiles.
There was something special in her smile and the way she looked at him, Terence thought. He was sure that she found him attractive. God she was a looker. Then it occurred to him. Of course! She’d be perfect!
Greg Sharman, the advertising guru of Ogylvie and Mather, had suggested that they include a young person‘s face in the campaign in order to appeal to the younger market. ‘Not for Galloway Motors,’ he’d said, ‘but for the Emporium commercials.’ Something in Terence’s eyes had caused him to hastily add, ‘in a very secondary role of course, say as your assistant or something.’ Then the perfect solution had occurred to him. ‘I’ve got it! What about your son?’
It had gone down like a lead balloon. ‘My son has no interest in the business,’ Terence had icily replied. ‘It’s why I changed the name.’ Which wasn’t altogether true. ‘Galloway and Sons’ had become ‘Galloway Motors and Emporium’ following Malcolm’s death.
Terence had eventually seen Greg’s point, however, and they’d decided upon a female image. ‘A bit of sex appeal never goes astray,’ they’d jointly agreed.
And young Lisa Langello certainly had sex appeal, Terence thought as his eyes strayed to her breasts, then her legs.
Lisa’s smile froze, she was starting to feel embarrassed. Mr Galloway was looking her up and down. She hoped he didn’t fancy her. Not that he wasn’t a handsome man in his own way, but he had to be in his fifties, and she wasn’t attracted to old men.
‘Forgive me for staring, my dear,’ Terence said, aware that she’d caught him looking at her breasts, but he wasn’t in the least embarrassed, he’d had every legitimate reason. He returned the champagne bottle to
the bar refrigerator and sat once again behind his desk. ‘You’re an extremely attractive young woman,’ he said, continuing his study of her.
Oh my God, Lisa thought, he does fancy me.
Kit too was aware that his father was ogling Lisa. ‘Time to go,’ he said as he rose from his chair. Bloody old perve, he thought, he could at least have been a little more subtle.
‘Sit down, Kit, I have a proposition for Lisa.’ Kit remained standing. ‘Would you be interested in testing for our commercials, my dear?’
Lisa stared back dumbly. Had she heard right? Was he joking?
‘We’re looking for a young woman to incorporate in the campaign, in order to appeal to the younger market. The director is currently holding auditions.’
He wasn’t joking. Lisa was breathless.
‘I could arrange a test for you, if you’re interested.’
‘You’re joking,’ Kit said. ‘Lisa isn’t an actress.’
‘I’d be very interested, Mr Galloway …’ Shut up Kit, she thought. ‘… Terence.’ There, she’d said it.
‘Excellent.’ Terence took a business card from the top drawer of his desk and scribbled a telephone number on it. ‘It’s not actresses we’re looking for, Kit,’ he said as he circled the desk. ‘Just the right image. Besides,’ he added as he held out the card, ‘I’m sure Lisa has a natural talent. That’s the director, my dear, Greg Sharman, I’ll tell him to expect your call.’
Lisa took the card. ‘Thank you.’ She gave him another of her radiant smiles. Yes, he thought, she certainly found him attractive. ‘How exciting,’ she said.
Terence insisted that they drink a toast, and poured champagne all round.
‘She hasn’t got the job yet,’ Kit said, ‘doesn’t she have to see the director?’
‘I’ve no doubt Greg’ll cast her,’ Terence said. He’d make sure that Greg did. ‘Cheers.’
It was ridiculous, Kit thought as he joined in the toast. The whole situation was bizarre.
He didn’t find it so bizarre when, barely a month later, the commercials went to air and Lisa became an overnight star.