The Hostess

by L. P. Gibbs

  “Sorry,” she told him, touching his arm affectionately. “I was miles away just then, deep in thought and I haven't heard a word you were saying.” He huffed good-naturedly before responding.

  “I was saying that maybe we could meet away from here sometime, have dinner perhaps?” He said, lowering his voice. He was obviously aware of the fraternisation rule. She knew there and then that there was nothing she would like better than to share more time with this man.

  “Yes,” she said with a whisper, nodding her head almost imperceptibly. It was frowned upon for girls to meet up with customers outside of the club. “I think I'd like that.” She went on to tell him that she only had Sunday nights off from work and he told her that Sundays would suit him just fine.

  “Working |Monday to Friday means that weekends can be a bit wild, if you know what I mean?” he asked. She assured him that she did know. He informed her that he would collect her from the corner of Great Windmill Street the following Sunday evening at seven o'clock.

  At the appointed time and day, Samantha climbed the steps from Piccadilly Circus Underground Station and emerged almost on the corner. Daniel was sitting behind the wheel of a metallic blue Jaguar XJ12, the engine idling softly, ignoring the double yellow lines. Getting into the beige, leather passenger seat beside him, he squeezed her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world and slipped the lever into gear, pulling swiftly out into the traffic, ignoring the protesting honks from other drivers braking sharply in the road behind him.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. He turned to smile at her and replied, his teeth flashing a brilliant white.

  “There's a little Italian restaurant I know of in Battersea. It's called Polgati's. The proprietor, Carlo, is a good friend of mine. You'll love it. Does the best veal you have ever tasted.” Samantha had never tasted veal; wasn't exactly sure of what it was. Even though she had been in London for over a year, she had absolutely no idea of where Battersea was either and said so.

  “It's an up and coming area South of the River Thames,” he told her with a laugh. “It used to be a bit run down in the old days but it's picking up a bit more now. More affluent types are moving in to the area.” Twenty minutes later, they arrived and Daniel parked almost outside the restaurant as if a magician had conjured up a parking space just for him. That was the kind of man he was. Things just automatically happened for him. As they entered the establishment a portly man with a goatee beard approached and shook Daniel warmly and vigorously by the hand, clapping his other hand on his shoulder at the same time. This was Carlo, the proprietor.

  “Daniel, my frien',” the man said, beaming from ear to ear. “Where-a you been, eh? How long is it I not seen you?” He obviously was not expecting a reply to the question. “Come, …. come, …. I have-a the best table for you both, eh?” Carlo led the way through the almost full restaurant to a table next to the window overlooking a small but colourful flower garden at the back of the restaurant, clicked his fingers for a waiter and smiled at them as they sat down. A young waiter appeared at their side and lit the solitary candle that rested in an empty, wax encrusted wine bottle in the centre of the table. “Now then,” Carlo continued, “you look at-a the menu and you have whatever you want, and your lady too. I come back to see you soon, okay?” Without waiting for an answer and assuming that everything was okay, Carlo whirled round and disappeared in haste through the swing doors that presumably led to a kitchen. Everything had happened so fast that Samantha was left almost breathless.

  “Well, what just happened?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Oh, that's just Carlo,” Daniel replied, looking over his shoulder towards the door that still swung on its hinges. “Always in a rush but his food is fantastic. He's a great guy when you get to know him.” He stood back up again. “Just going to wash my hands, love,” he said and went through another door. She watched him walk away and thought how handsome he looked in his beige suit and open necked pale blue shirt. She was still watching as he came back out of the wash-room just three minutes later and stopped to chat with their waiter, sharing some joke or another. Standing a little under six feet tall with gorgeously thick, wavy, almost auburn hair and a muscular build, she thought how lucky she was to be in his company. She had noticed a number of women turn to look at him as he passed between their tables.

  Returning to his seat opposite her, they ordered their starters and main meals. He had the spaghetti Bolognese and she decided, on Daniel's suggestion, to try the escallops of veal in a Marsala wine sauce. It arrived topped with Parma ham and melted mozzarella cheese, accompanied by sauted potatoes and buttered green beans. The meat all but melted in her mouth and she could not ever remember having a better meal in her life. A bottle and a half of Pinot Grigio later at ten thirty, they eventually managed to get away from Carlo's constant chattering and back-slapping. Daniel drove at a steady pace, arriving at his flat near Crystal Palace thirty minutes later. Parking in the underground car park, they took the lift up to the twenty first floor of the block from where there was a wonderful view across Penge and towards the South.

  Samantha stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the millions of tiny, twinkling lights far below her and spreading out into the far distance, the pale crescent moon just visible through the sparse, white, candy floss-type clouds. Suddenly, he was there at her side with a glass of white wine for her and a pink gin and tonic for himself. He slid his strong arm around her slender waist and she looked up into those bright, cobalt blue eyes of his; eyes that appeared to have a permanent smile etched upon the corners. Looking out across the vista before them, he swirled the ice in his glass, took a sip and placed his glass on a polished, wooden coffee table, turning her round so that she faced him, taking her drink and setting it beside his own. Both of his large hands were on her waist now as he spoke softly to her.

  “Well then, Samantha, my love,” he started with a mock stern expression as he guided her to the centre of the room, looking up above her head and holding her steady. “Now I want you to stay right here on this spot without moving,” he told her. Puzzled, she asked why and he simply replied, “So that in the dim and distant future, when we're both old and grey and sitting together on a park bench feeding the ducks, I will be able to look back and recall exactly where we were when I first kissed you. Right here, under this lamp-shade.”

  He leaned forward and took her face in his hands as he gently let his lips touch the corner of her mouth, then brushed them softly across her own trembling, red lips to the other corner before allowing them to travel down to her neck, to just below her ear. Then he moved back up and his mouth came down on hers, slowly at first and then slightly more forcefully, his tongue darting between her opening lips to explore her. With his hands on her buttocks, he pulled her towards him a little and she found herself pushing back, grinding her hips against him, wanting him with every fibre of her being, her body aching for his as a sigh escaped from her lips. Daniel stepped back a little, took her by the hand and led her through a door that opened into a spacious bedroom. His bed was, as she just knew it would be, a king-sized version with a cream, satin duvet cover and plump, welcoming pillows.

  “Get undressed and make yourself comfortable,” he told her with a comforting smile. “I'm just going to the bathroom.” With that, he left her and went out. She hurriedly undressed, leaving her clothes neatly folded on top of a chest of drawers and slid under the duvet. As she lay there expectantly, she allowed her eyes to wander round the room, taking in the extravagance of it all. Everything was just right and so expensive looking. Moments later he returned, wearing nothing but his underwear. She marvelled at his muscular, semi-tanned physique as he moved around the bed and stood beside her. He slipped his underpants down as he got into the bed beside her and then his mouth was on hers again, devouring her greedily.

  Sliding himself on top of her, she allowed him to part her legs with his. He entered her and she felt his body pounding forcefully into hers and bu
ilding quickly to his climax. In just over a minute, the entire, sweaty exercise was finished and he slumped on top of her. Samantha started to wonder what it had all been about. She had felt nothing. It had even been better than this with Carla.

  Daniel started to snore. She gently pushed him to one side and rolled over to lay on her side, deep in thought. It felt as though she had just been used. It was a couple of hours before she fell asleep herself.

  She awoke at eight o'clock and sat up in the bed, looking around in the pale light that filtered through from outside.

  The bedroom was large and plush with pale, light grey furnishings bordered with brilliant gloss white. A huge television, probably the largest she had ever seen, hung from the wall opposite the bed at just the right height and angle. She ruminated that this room was without doubt at least four times larger than her own; and this was just the bedroom. God knows what else the flat had to offer. She had not had time to explore the previous night. Events had happened too quickly.

  She noticed a white bathrobe that had been considerately placed across her folded clothes and, tip-toeing across the thick, light grey carpet, she slipped into it, pulling the belt tight around herself before venturing barefoot out of the room. She walked softly across the enormous lounge and found that Daniel was standing at the sink in the kitchen area that was separated from the lounge by a wide, black glass worktop, wide windows at the far end. He was leaning back against it, trousers, shoes and socks on and bare-chested, smoking a cigarette.

  “Do you have work to go to?” she enquired, not really caring about the answer. Any feelings she had towards him prior to going to bed with him had altered considerably. “What is it you do, anyway?”

  “Nothing very exciting,” he replied, moving away to take mugs from a wall-cupboard. “I work for one of the big named banks in the City. I'm in charge of the Dealing Room, which basically means being stuck in a stuffy office nearly all day. Pretty boring, really, but it pays quite good money. Allows me to live a nice life. I get a company car and an expense account.”

  He said this as he pulled a turquoise shirt on and finished dressing hurriedly, mostly with one hand. He poured hot water from the boiling kettle on to the instant coffee in the two white mugs. “As soon as I've finished this cigarette and drank my coffee I'm going to have to leave or I'll be late for work so you'd better get dressed soon and I'll drop you off in town. Will that be okay?” Samantha assured him that it would be okay, took a sip of her coffee and hurried back to the bedroom to dress herself. When she returned to the kitchen, he was standing near the door with his jacket on, looking at his wrist-watch as if willing her to get a move on.

  “Am I going to see you again?” she asked. When he asked for her phone number she had to tell him that she didn't have a telephone so he scribbled on to a piece of paper and handed it to her.

  “That's my number,” he said, brushing crumbs from his tie and shirt front. “Give me a ring towards the end of the week and we'll sort something out.” They left the luxurious apartment and half an hour later Daniel dropped her off at the Elephant & Castle underground station from where she could take a direct train on the Northern Line straight through to Camden Town.

  Arriving home around eleven on that Monday morning, she climbed the stairs to her own tiny room and made the decision to catch up on some sleep before getting ready to go to work at Silk's that evening. Samantha undressed, carefully folding her clothes and draping her blouse around the chair.

  Two days later on the Wednesday afternoon she decided to telephone Daniel. The call went straight through to his voicemail. Four subsequent calls met with the same response and so she left it until the next day to try again. The same thing happened again the next day as she continued her attempts to contact him throughout the afternoon. She was now painfully aware that either Daniel was blocking her calls or he had deliberately given her the wrong number. Another harsh life lesson learned. Never trust a man who seems too good to be true.

  Two nights later on the Saturday, Samantha was seated at the small bar downstairs in the club, watching Carla and another girl in conversation with two young businessmen in suits who had entered a short while earlier. The four of them appeared to be in good spirits with the 'cocktails' flowing when she noticed the two men looking at her and laughing. At first she thought she had been mistaken but a few minutes later she saw both of them turn to look directly at her again, their heads close together in whispered conversation and burst out laughing once more.

  Not knowing what was going on, she felt somewhat uncomfortable and went upstairs to relieve Pepsi from her duties at the front desk. The other girl smiled as she stretched and yawned, getting up from the red leather sofa that sat behind the polished desk in the foyer entrance to the club.

  About fifteen minutes later Chris, the doorman came back inside having been missing for ten minutes. He often disappeared for a while having 'other business' to attend to which usually involved making money. He was accompanied by another young man in his late twenties, a few years older than herself, wearing a smart navy blue serge suit and knitted tie over a snow white shirt. The man wasn't exactly classically handsome but there was some quality about him, an aura that made women give him a second glance. Maybe it was the steely blue eyes which were either smiling or as cold as ice, she couldn't decide which. She made to stand up, assuming he was a customer but Chris gently patted her cheek and slowly shook his head with a smile.

  “It's alright, Samantha,” he told her, “He's with me.” They went through the curtain and she heard Chris ask Rocky to watch the door for him. She heard the two men descending the stairs. A few moments later, Rocky's grim face came through the beads and he stood in the doorway, an imposing figure that was more likely to put customers off rather than encouraging them to enter. He did his best but there was no sign of any customers for some time.

  She was back on the red couch at midnight when the two businessmen who had been laughing earlier came through from the bar on their way out having settled their bill by card. They stopped right in front of the desk which Samantha was reclining behind and one of them leaned forward.

  “Goodnight, Samantha,” he said with a leer, ogling her cleavage. “I hope to be seeing a lot more of you soon.” They both went into fits of giggling and stumbled out of the door. Rocky watched them make their way, staggering down towards the main road then turned to face her.

  “What was all that about, Sammy? How did he know your name?” he asked with a worried frown.

  “I've got absolutely no idea, Rock.”

  Ten minutes later she had her answer when Carla came up into the reception and beckoned for Samantha to follow her downstairs. Halfway down, they turned and went out through the fire exit to stand in Ham Yard at the rear of the club. Carla lit one of her long, coloured, slim-line cigarettes before speaking.

  “Did you know either of those two blokes I was sitting with earlier?” she asked, her brows knitted together in a questioning expression. Samantha frowned and told her that she didn't. Carla continued. “What about their friend Daniel, then? Do you know someone called Daniel?”

  “Well, …. yes, I do. I went out with him last weekend.” She went on to relate everything that had happened from being meeting him in the club, being picked up on the Sunday evening, Carlo's restaurant, Daniel's apartment and everything that occurred therein. Samantha expressed her disappointment that Daniel had been such a selfish lover. Carla lowered her eyes, tapping ash from the glowing end of her cigarette to fall to the ground before she continued.

  “I'm sorry, love,” she said with genuine remorse in her voice. “Apparently, everything that went on with you in his bedroom was filmed in secret and those two guys are workmates of his; they all work in the same office. I heard them talking about his film. They've seen it all, ….. in great detail! They know absolutely everything that happened in that bedroom. That's why they were laughing. He's taken you for a complete idiot, I'm afraid.”

  Samantha lean
ed her forehead against the cold metal of the fire door and closed her eyes. Carla was right. She had been taken for a fool and her eyes welled up with tears as she thought about how she had felt about Daniel. She did her best not to cry, though. After a few minutes and dabbing her eyes with a tissue that Carla had offered, she stood upright. She turned and looked hard at her friend.

  “One way or another, that bastard's going to pay for that. He will regret ever meeting me. Remember what happened to the last guy who took advantage of me?” Carla was almost fearful as she saw Samantha's expression of sheer hatred and vowed never to get on the wrong side of her friend.. The two girls went back inside the club, softly closing the door behind them.

  When Samantha next took her turn at the desk, she asked Chris about the young man he had brought in earlier.

  “Oh, his name's Alan,” he informed her, lighting a cigarette from his disposable lighter. “I met him a few weeks ago. He's going to take over the door for me for one or two nights a week so I can have a bit of time off. I've got a new girl-friend and she's a bit keen to see more of me. She's not too happy about what I do for a living either. I think she gets a bit jealous, you know? Alan's going to start a week from Monday.” She remembered that Chris had recently taken up with a woman from South London and wanted to spend a little more time with her.

  “Has he done this sort of thing before?” she asked.

  “Well, ….. no, …. but he's keen to learn and I'll be working with him for the first week, just to keep an eye on him, you know? In any case, I think he can handle himself so there's no worry on that score.”

  “He seemed nice,” she ventured, wistfully. Samantha's head was easily turned by the right face.

  “Yeah, he seems like he's an okay guy. We'll see how he shapes up when he's working the door. It's not as simple as just standing here and asking people to come in and spend money, you know.”

  Samantha found herself looking forward to working with this Alan whilst at the same time also trying to devise a way of getting back at Daniel. She didn't know where he worked, just knew that it was somewhere in the City of London. She was certain that she would be able to recall the location of his plush apartment if she only managed to get to the right area. It was something to think about. Something would have to be done, that was for sure. The time would come for her revenge and Samantha had all the time in the world in which to wreak it.