"Oh yes, they ordered a full English breakfast…" his voice tailed off as he realised his error, and then gathering himself he said, "She has not left the room, just yet."
"I see, enjoying a quiet morning are they?"
"She's reserved a luncheon table for two in the dining room at 1:00 p.m.," he said, looking up at the wall clock, which showed five minutes before midday.
"Mr. Beresford, how would you like to have a really busy hotel for the rest of the day?"
Not knowing what she meant, he just nodded.
"Fine, well at fifteen minutes before one o'clock, send somebody to their room with this newspaper, and tell your guests that is with the compliments of Cyril Worthington," she said, handing over a folded copy of the News of the World.
"Right now, it would be a good idea to send a messenger over to Miss Bainbridge's house – here is the address," she scribbled on a piece of paper. "Tell your messenger to inform the television crews and reporters outside the house, that Mr. Wilson and Miss Bainbridge will be available for interview in your dining room at one o'clock sharp. That should fill the room."
Beresford rubbed his hands and said, "Thank you, I shall do exactly as you say."
"Make sure you charge full rate for all the food and drink supplied to these media people. They're all on very high expense accounts, you know."
"I will, don't you worry about that. I know exactly how to handle the media," he said, going over to the mirror, and throwing a stray lock of hair over his balding pate.
"Now, there's one more thing you can help me with."
"Anything, my dear lady. How can I be of service?"
"Find me a nice corner table in the restaurant where I will not be noticed, but can see all the shenanigans as they occur."
"Come with me; I have the ideal spot behind some potted ferns…"
CHAPTER 27
Despite the summons she had received, and the intrusion into the bedroom by three men while her naked body was just achieving its first climax with a man, Beryl slept well in the arms of her beau. She felt him stir once or twice, but was awake in an instance, "What is it, my dear, can't you sleep?"
"I'm just going to the bathroom," he said.
When Grant returned to the bed, she put out the lights and wrapped herself around him, saying, "You make me so happy, and I love you so much."
"Yes, my darling, I feel the same way," said Grant, trying to turn over, but finding her grip on his body too strong. Within minutes, they were both asleep again.
In the bright early morning sunshine creeping beneath the worn curtains, she was able to examine her lover's face, and then she gently kissed each cheek and finally his mouth.
"What is it, my darling?" he said, lifting his head.
"Relax, my dear, I'm just giving you a morning kiss."
He dropped his head back onto the pillow with a loud sigh, and Beryl smiled as a plan came to mind. She moved her naked body so it lay along the top of him, with her thin legs astride his waist, and started to kiss and nuzzle his neck as she slid down his body with slow, measured movements.
Inch by inch, she kissed and licked his chest and stomach. She felt him harden between her breasts, and with gentle movements from side-to-side she increased his morning erection two-fold, or more.
When her mouth reached his solid erection, she held it in her hands while her long tongue licked it from end to end. She opened her mouth, and shivered with excitement as she felt the hard cock ease past her tight lips until the glans pushed deep into her throat.
She held his penis in her hand as she kneeled above him, and with her other hand she opened the moist sides of her vagina. With a slow downward movement she allowed about a quarter of his cock inside her, and leaning forward she put her hands over his nipples, letting her arms take the weight of her body.
Beryl smiled down at the inquisitive look on his face and said, "Relax, Grant, we're going to make the most wonderful love together. This time I will let you know when my climax is coming, so you can enjoy your orgasm at the same time."
She smiled at him, but when he didn't respond, she shook her arms on his chest. "Well, isn't that what you wanted last night?"
He seemed to snap out of his reverie, and gave her a wan smile as he said, "Yes, my darling, that will be wonderful."
"Right, well you just lay back and relax for a bit, while I do all the work. When my climax starts, I want you to get into action – okay?"
"Yes, my darling," he said, with a dutiful smile.
Beryl set about her task with energy. Kissing first his nipples, and then giving him one of her infamous wet kisses on the mouth. All the while, she kept up the rhythmic movements of her body on his erect penis. Up and down, round and about, and side to side she went, and before many minutes elapsed, she started to increase her speed enormously.
"Oh, Grant, quickly, I'm coming…"
She felt him grab her sides and pump her up and down on his rock-hard cock, making her squeal with delight. "More, my sweetheart, more!"
Her climax slammed through her body like a gusher in a desert, as she felt him rocking her body up and around, while he cried, "Yes, yes, now, my darling!"
When he sat up and held her tight in his arms, she felt all the power and energy pent up in her body surge out through her pussy. At the same time, she was aware of his strong spurts of semen filling her vagina and seeping out over her thighs.
Putting her hands to his face she said, "That was wonderful, sweetheart. I'm sure we just made the most beautiful baby." She rewarded him with a long wet kiss, and didn't see the light in his eyes fade away.
CHAPTER 28
"See who is at the door, dear," said Beryl, putting some more lipstick on her narrow lips.
Grant left his chair by the window, where he'd been waiting for her to prepare for lunch for the past thirty minutes, and strode over to the door.
"Newspaper, courtesy of Cyril Worthington," said the spotty-faced youth, rushing away down the corridor the moment the paper was in Grant's hands.
"What did he say?" screeched Beryl, rushing over to Grant and snatching the newspaper from his hands, while he was closing the door.
"He said it was from Cyril Worthington."
"I know that, I heard him. Do you think I'm deaf," she shouted, as she spread the News of the World across the bed and stared at the headlines.
Naked Local Councillor With Adulterous Lover!
The headline screamed its message, supported by a bold sub-heading that read "Miss Beryl Bainbridge, erstwhile candidate for Mayor of Stockport, Cheshire, steals a man from his pregnant wife." The heavily edited photographs of her naked body on top of an equally naked Grant left very little to the imagination, while the copy below completed the whole sordid story in great detail.
She read the story through a number of times and then quietly and efficiently folded the newspaper back into its original folds, before placing it on the coffee table by the window. Grant made no effort to pick it up, and sat in his chair, waiting.
She held out her hand to him, gesturing for him to stand and said, "My Daddy always said that when one door closes, another one opens. He was right. Our careers in Stockport seem to be over, my dear, but we have each other, and together we shall win through. What do you say?"
"You're right, of course, my darling," said Grant, totally lost for words, and no doubt wondering why this silly woman couldn't see that this event was only the first pebble in the avalanche racing towards them.
"Come along, then, let's go down for lunch," she said, with a brittle smile.
CHAPTER 29
Mr. Beresford pushed the last of the reporters through the double doors from the dining room to the adjacent ballroom. He took a last glance around the almost empty dining room, nodded to the maître d' and closed the door.
He held up his hands to the massed throng of photographers, cameramen, and reporters and put his finger to his lips.
"Quiet now, they've left their room and are on their wa
y down. Once they're safely seated at their table at the rear of the dining room, I will allow you into the room. I would like to take this opportunity of thanking you for cooperating, because if just one of you stringers and freelancers had gone up to their room for a scoop, they would be away."
With a final finger to his lips, he went back into the dining room just in time to see Grant and Beryl enter the dining room. He saw the maître d' usher them towards their table, but then the woman stopped and turned to the corner where Mrs. Worthington was hiding.
"I thought I recognised that green hat and feather. Good afternoon, Mrs. Worthington. Do thank Mr. Worthington for his newspaper, it's not often I get to read the scandal sheets." She turned to take Grant's arm and without giving Joyce a chance to reply, said, "Come along, Grant darling, I'm starving."
Beresford saw Mrs. Worthington's face go red with anger, and he held his arms out from his side and shrugged his shoulders in apology for the chance meeting. Seeing the couple were now seated and looking through the menus, he went over to the ballroom doors and pulled them open.
The avalanche roared in, with cameras flashing, lights glaring, and notebooks held aloft as they struggled for position around the guest's table. A wide pathway had been arranged, and the BBC dolly with camera rolling, thread its way towards the front. Questions were fired at the couple non-stop from every corner of the room.
"Miss Bainbridge would you like to say a few words to BBC North?" said an attractive young lady holding her microphone too high.
"What have you got to say to the pregnant wife whose husband the press say you've stolen?"
"Are you still going to stand for Mayor, Miss Bainbridge?"
"Have you seen the photos in the papers, where you and your partner are naked?"
Beryl did not answer any question, but looked around the room with great interest. She leaned over to Grant and whispered in his ear, and saw him nod his agreement. She then stood up with a calm expression on her face, but a steely look in her eyes.
She held up her hand with the confidence of a person used to holding meetings, and controlling them. The questions stopped, and chatter subsided until the room was quiet, with everybody waiting for her to speak.
"My fiancé and I would like to express our distaste at the atrocious behaviour of Mr. Beresford in arranging for this invasion of our lunch. We both look forward to answering all your questions at a more convenient time. Meanwhile, we will now take our meal in the privacy of our room."
Grant stood behind her, and as she left the table he took her arm and walked by her side, pushing away some of the more intrusive reporters with their questions. The lift doors were open, and once inside he stopped members of the media from entering, and in minutes they were in the seclusion of their room.
"Did you have any idea that this may happen," she asked Grant, as she collapsed into one of the two small chairs by the window, indicating for him to take the other one.
"Not at all, it was all a terrible shock, I must say."
"Yes, well, it seems that we are famous right now, or perhaps infamous is the better word. What do you say, dear?"
He glanced at the look on her face, before saying, "It certainly seems we are celebrities, and that is going to make it difficult to move about."
"I'm still hungry," she said, changing the subject, "Let's order lunch."
CHAPTER 30
In the early hours of Monday morning, Grant made arrangements with the night porter for a taxi, so he and Beryl could check-out of the hotel and go to her house. It was a wet night, and although they expected to see photographers and reporters leaping out from behind every bush on the short journey, the only sign of life they saw was a milkman starting his round.
Once in the house, Beryl locked the front door and insisted Grant come with her while she checked every nook and cranny of the three-storey house. There was no sign of any disturbance at all, so after a quick cup of tea, they went to bed and were asleep in seconds.
They spent the next few days as will prisoners in the house, sending out for food and supplies through the good services of young Marion, the neighbour's daughter. There was the occasional knock on the front door, which kept them both trembling in the kitchen, but apart from that the week was pretty quiet.
She wrote letters resigning from her job and her position as a Councillor, while withdrawing her candidacy for the position of Mayor of Stockport. These were given to Marion to post, and by the end of the week she received formal letters accepting her resignation. Grant was also encouraged by Beryl to write his resignation.
"We're in this together, my dear, and we must plan for our future."
Beryl next decided to have the local Estate Agent call by appointment to value the house, with a view for a quick sale. His news was not good.
"If you're prepared to wait, we may get more than four thousand, even though this is an old property, but if you want a quick sale, then you won't get much more than three thousand – if that," he added, with a Scrooge like sniff, as he looked around the place with obvious distaste.
"But I don't understand, it's a large house, with a cellar and a spacious attic. Also, the end house sold last year for well over four thousand."
"Yes, but that house was in immaculate condition, and being an end-terrace, rather than a mid-terrace it has a better outlook, and of course, commands a better asking price."
"So, what is your final advice?"
"Put it on the market at about three and a half, and hope for the best."
"Thank you, Mr. Greenfield; I'll be in touch with you."
"Good day, Miss Bainbridge, Mr. Wilson," he said, slipping out the front door with obvious relief, and almost skipping down the path to his old Morris Oxford saloon that was parked right outside.
Their moment of fame had come and gone. They were news last weekend, but by the next weekend they were old news. The phone had stopped ringing; there were no more knocks at the door, and no signs of men lurking about the street.
On Sunday, Beryl sent Grant to collect his car and that afternoon they went for a long drive in the country, stopping for dinner at a quiet restaurant where nobody even looked their way. They returned home in a better frame of mind, even though the future looked bleak, but at about eight o'clock that evening, there was a knock on the front door.
"You go," said Beryl, putting a hand to her head in distress, "I'm just not up to it, my dear, and if it is a reporter, don't speak to him, but just close the door in his face."
She waited anxiously in the sitting room, and was dismayed when she heard voices approaching. Grant entered first, and ushered in the solicitor who'd served them each with a summons in the hotel room only last week.
"What are you doing here?" shouted Beryl, standing up with eyes ablaze. She pointed at the door and said, "I want you to leave, right now."
Grant took her gently by the arm, and said, "Please calm down, my darling, and listen to what Mr. Lyndhurst has to say."
She glared at both men, but sat down without another word.
"Please take a seat, Mr. Lyndhurst," said Grant, waving at the vacant sofa, before taking the arm chair opposite Beryl.
"I have some offers and a proposal to make to you both, and I suggest you hear me out, before making any comments or interruptions," said Lyndhurst, opening his briefcase that he'd laid on the sofa, and withdrawing a couple of folders stuffed with papers.
"Well, go on then," said Beryl, with a disapproving look at the man.
"These offers are all connected, so I suggest you calm down, and wait until I'm finished. I can promise you that you will not be displeased."
There was silence while he sorted out the papers, before looking up at Beryl and saying, "I have here a conditional offer of four thousand pounds for the freehold of this house," he said, putting it to one side, before picking up another paper.
"What is the condition of sale, Mr. Lyndhurst?"
"All in good time, my dear lady, please be patient. The second condit
ional offer is a sum of money for each of you; two thousand pounds each."
This time Beryl said nothing, but she did glance at Grant and give him a small smile, which the solicitor did not notice as he was digging in his briefcase.
"The third conditional offer is these two first class tickets on M.V. Fairsky sailing for Australia from Southampton, three weeks from today."
"It's that Worthington isn't it?"
"Yes, your benefactor is Mr. Cyril Worthington, who has instructed me to tell you that if you do not accept the offer this evening, it is totally and irrevocably withdrawn. The conditions are that you both immigrate to Australia, signing this document confirming that you will not return to Great Britain for at least ten years, and will never return to Stockport."
"What if we have trouble with the immigration people?" asked Grant.
"Mr. Worthington has considerable connections, and they have already agreed, because of your new financial situation. He will be transferring the total sum of eight thousand pounds to your solicitor, on the day you arrive in Sydney, Australia. Your solicitor will then no doubt arrange for the transfer to your new account in Sydney." At this point he stopped talking and looked up at the couple.
Grant was smiling at Beryl, who held out her hand to him. He came over and sat on the arm of her chair and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She squeezed his hand.
"Finally, Mr. Worthington does not wish you to leave the country empty-handed, and when you sign these papers, I am to give each of you the sum of one thousand pounds cash."
This final offer was the clincher, and after a cup of tea, the papers were all signed, with Mr. Lyndhurst and his clerk, who was called in from the car outside, witnessing their signatures.
Beryl was given copies of the papers, and he handed Grant the tickets and the cash, before leaving. No sooner was he out the door, than she held out her hand to Grant and giving him a warm smile she said, "You better give them to me for safe keeping, my dear." Without thinking, he passed over the cash and tickets, to Beryl who soon put them away in her handbag.
In The Name Of Love Page 13