The Bare Necessities (Non-Profane Edition)

by John Harding

  She cackled and rubbed her nose. “So what do I get?”

  “Well, we are always keen to help you break new markets. I see the great potential for a brand here and think that your red, dripping blood M symbol could be licensed for all sorts of merchandise.”

  She grunted and stubbed her cigarette out on the buttocks of her “seat” causing him to yell. “Sounds flash, but … I don't do business with men,” she warned him. “Well not like that. 'Cause what happens if you don't deliver?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “We don't get paid.”

  She clenched her fists and took a bottle of beer from the floor. “Nah,” she cried as she used a bottle opener attached to her leather bustier. “Nah, 'cause ya sod off havin' messed my name up. Nah. If you mess up I want a week of you in my dungeon,” she said with a laugh.

  Andre looked at her. “Well that's not how it works” he said anxiously. “But we can agree a number of …”

  “Nah, we can't,” she replied. “Ya mess up, I put you in my show.” He gulped, and she smiled. “Ya saw my show?”

  He nodded; the extreme bondage and humiliation the Mistress of Hades subjected her “assistants” to was unreal, although the mixed audience lapped up the violent episodes, as well as the classic punk tunes her off-key voice murdered, in her three hour “extravaganza.”

  She pointed towards the corner of the room where a car battery was on its side with two long wires coming out of it. “I got a routine just for you. Electro-balls. To go with that electric suit you're wearing,” she said with her lips curling.

  Andre simpered. “Can I leave you a sample contract and some ideas we've had. We'd been keen to meet and discuss, in our office maybe.” He took a small bundle of papers from his bag and passed them over to her, but she didn't take them. “I'll leave them on the table,” he told her and then put them on the back of the man near his feet.

  “You going to be in my show if you screw up?” The woman asked as she got up and Andre shook his hand.

  “Sorry that's not how it works.”

  “Well this is how I work,” the extreme Mistress of Hades replied and put one foot over the man on his knees a couple of feet from Andre. She snarled at the agent, and maintained eye contact as she released a stream of urine from her bladder onto the contract and the man at her feet. “Yeah, now do one,” he was told as her flow of wee stopped, and a relieved Andre made a hasty exit.

  It was one client he was suddenly very glad he didn't have, no matter how keen his uncle was on her and her “potential earning ability.”

  Chapter V

  Jack entered the lounge and inwardly groaned when he saw the faces of his mother and father sitting opposite each other with furrowed brows. He had been summoned aggressively from his bedroom and knew what they wanted to talk to him about.

  “Sit down,” his father barked and pointed at a chair opposite. He scratched his head and rubbed his eyes, putting his newspaper onto the floor beside him. “What's this I hear about you and some scrubber?”

  Jack sighed. “Nothing,” he said firmly. “Just … nothing.”

  “It didn't look like nothing,” his mother interrupted. “He was naked, and she was getting naked. And to think he was letting her swim in our pool.”

  The imposing figure of Paul Rees-Montague clicked his fingers and his wife stopped immediately. “Listen son, I know that Ellie girl hit you hard, but you have to realise that there are some pretty nasty, scheming lowlife out there, and they see what we have and they want some of it. And you will get girls throwing themselves at you. And it's nice, trust me, it feels good. Just remember that they don't like you, they want you for our money and our status.”

  “Claire doesn't. She …”

  “She is the daughter of our cleaner,” he interrupted and laughed. “I mean, she probably doesn't have much of a future. She spent all day planting flowers, so I really don't think she's appropriate for you.”

  “She's really nice and …”

  “Listen. She might be nice, but you and her are from different worlds. She'll probably try and entice you into sex, tell you that she's on the pill, let you get her pregnant, and you'll never hear the end of it. So, don't think about her and just try and find some suitable ladies. And if you want cheap tarts for the afternoon, pay for a prossie.”

  Jack gulped and clenched his fists. “It's not what you think. She doesn't want …”

  “You are being so naïve,” his father told him condescendingly and tutted. “I was there once. And it took my father to point it out to me. She will be after …”

  “Will you just listen?” Jack shouted and stunned his father into silence. “I did my revision, and as she finished planting the flowers I asked her if she wanted a drink as I wanted a break. While she was waiting for her mother to pick her up we talked, and it was nice. And relaxing. She listened, and was like a friend, and that was it. And then I tried to get her into the pool because I wanted to swim. She was going to be naked as she didn't bring her costume. She is not my type, and I am not her's. She is not interested in me, except for having someone to talk to for an hour. That's it. There is no attempt at getting pregnant or trying to seduce me or anything else. That was it, sixty minutes of chat. And as for the future, she is looking to go to Uni as well.”

  “Not Cambridge though,” his father interrupted. “And so she hasn't got to try to get you into bed, but it'll come. That type always try it. It's lucky that we caught her before …”

  Jack groaned and threw his hands up in the air. “Just … no!” He rubbed his brow. “OK, I probably won't see her again,” he told them. “But I promise I will not try and get to see her naked if I do. OK?”

  Paul tapped the side of the chair and muttered. “You have a lot to learn,” he told him. “A lot to learn.” Jack didn't respond but just frowned at his concerned parents before shaking his head and leaving the room.

  * * * * *

  Paige swore at her phone. “Out of bloody credit. I only put a tenner in you three days ago, how the hell can you chew through ten pounds when I don't bloody use you? Who are you calling in my bag?” The phone didn't respond other than beep when she tried to make a call and Paige threw her arms up in despair. “Bloody thing.”

  “Errr … hello.” Paige looked up to see Claire standing in front of her.

  “Hi,” Paige cried. “I got the tickets. I was going to ring you, but my phone said no credit and I know there should be credit in there. I don't know where it disappears to.” Paige held her hands out in front of her and looked expectantly at her friend. “I'm sure it's gremlins.”

  “Yeah, mine does that too,” Claire said with a grin and pulled Paige up from the bench with her outstretched hand. “Lazy.”

  “I've been up since six,” Paige moaned.

  “Paper round?”

  “No, Hazel crying.” Paige shrugged. “She does that a lot, but she won't talk. Not to me, not to Mum, not to her nurse. Just sobbing away like a baby.”

  “You didn't want to bring her?” Claire asked, and Paige shook her head.

  “No. Krystal was going to come, but she's been called in to work. Her manager was ill. Or as Krystal says, his wife is away and he wants to go screw his mistress, but I think she's just jealous. So it's just us two.” Paige smiled as she passed Claire her ticket and the girl instantly fished around for her purse. “You buy the drinks afterwards and we are quits,” Paige offered.

  “Thanks,” Claire muttered, but Paige snorted.

  “Wait 'til you see the drinks prices before you thank me!”

  The romantic drama was not to Paige's taste, but Claire had been keen to see the film, and the red-haired firebrand had missed her naturist friend in the two weeks since she had left the camp site, so readily agreed to meet up to see anything with her.

  After the cinema, the two girls walked across the High Street and walked towards the station before stopping at a small bar near the main road. Claire bought both of them large glasses of wine and they sat down to talk.<
br />
  “That was a bit of a crap film,” Paige moaned as she took a sip and Claire hummed.

  “It wasn't that bad, but I don't think it was as good as the hype,” she replied and pushed her shoulders back to allow her coat to fall off her body and land on the padded leather bench she was sitting on. “So, apart from Hazel, what's been going on?”

  “Nothing much. Every time I want to do something, Hazel stops me. It's a pain sharing bedrooms,” Paige moaned. “That karaoke competition on holiday really awakened something inside of me so I tried singing last night; I have an old karaoke machine from when the pub down the road closed down but she just wouldn't let me.”

  “You bought a karaoke machine from 'em. That's quite enterprising!”

  “No. I broke in and nicked it after closing night,” Paige said without a trace of irony in her voice. “Well the brewery didn't want it any more, they were knocking the place down.” Claire pursed her lips and looked away, but Paige didn't notice the disapproval of her friend. “I just can't use it any more when she's around. Hazel kicks off. And I write the odd song. I've got a few I've written and it has a mike and amp, and an output that I can stick into a laptop, so I've tried recording my voice and putting instruments over the top, but I can't do it in the flat. Kitchen's no good, Lounge always has the telly on, so only leaves my room and that's got Hazel in it. So I've just got nowhere at the moment. It's doing my head in! I really want to make music again and can't.”

  Claire laughed. “I know someone with the opposite problem. A recording studio above their garage and no desire to use it.” Paige's eyes widened, and Claire recounted the visit to Jack's house a few days previous and Paige giggled at the story. “He's just so spoilt, really.”

  “I hate people like that,” Paige moaned. “I mean, they will have telly rooms and pools bigger than my bedroom and all sorts. It's just sick.”

  “He's nice,” Claire replied. “But his parents are just … well they aren't from this planet. To think I was trying to seduce their son. Agghhh!”

  Paige giggled, and Claire smiled. “You know, I'd love a go on a karaoke machine again. We don't have one, and it'll be good to do it again. We won the competition and that afternoon where we entertained everyone was great. I mean, I know it was raining so they had nothing else to do, but it was fun.”

  “It was wicked!” Paige gushed with a smile. “Hazel is away next week, she is off on a school field trip with an overnight stay or something. If Mum lets her go, so we could use it on Wednesday,” Paige suggested, and Claire nodded, excitedly.

  “Yeah. Whereabouts do you live?”

  “Selhurst,” Paige said instantly. “In the High Street. Above the pound shop.” Claire giggled and Paige nodded. “Yeah I know. Real classy!”

  * * * * *

  “Wow!” Claire said the moment she entered the small bedroom. Although the room was cramped with a bunk bed to her right and posters of pop stars and film celebrities on the wardrobe door, there was a big karaoke machine taking pride of place in the corner of the bedroom. “How did you get that from the pub?”

  “I wheeled it on a supermarket trolley,” the girl told her proudly. “I had seen it and wanted it when we were in the pub for a birthday party. Someone my Dad knows turned sixty or something, but the moment the posters went up to say the place was shutting, I just had to go and get it. It'd only've gone to the tip.” Claire listened, and Paige snorted. “I met two guys with knives as I left. They scared the hell out of me, but they just went in to try and get some booze. Didn't give a monkeys 'bout the karaoke machine.”

  “Did they find any?”

  “What? You think I stayed to find out?” Claire giggled, and Paige pulled a laptop out of the cupboard and set it up on the floor. The fan strained and whined as it booted up; it was old, but once it had loaded, the hostess set up the output from the karaoke machine to go into the laptop and passed Claire a chunky microphone. “What shall we start with?”

  The folder containing the CDs was huge and Claire started leafing through them. She selected Katy Perry's Teenage Dream; it was one of the few disks containing songs from the past eighteen months, but despite Paige's selection of disks leanings towards older music, Claire was still in awe at the choice open to her.

  Claire and Paige sang well, but when they replayed the recording, their voices were “clipping” and Paige had to turn a few buttons. They tried again, and although they sounded OK on the recording, there was crackling and interference coming from the laptop.

  Claire didn't care and just enjoyed spending time with Paige who, after messing up three songs in succession apologised to her friend and removed her trousers, shirt and underwear. “I can't sing with clothes on,” she told her friend. “It's not right. I always do it naked. It's why I froze on the school talent night.”

  Claire giggled, and Paige told her to try singing without any clothes on. Claire hesitated, the last time she started getting undressed at someone's house she was accused by the parents of trying to seduce their offspring. She had no intention of seducing Paige, but had no idea what her friend's parents would say if they came in!

  “It's much better,” Paige promised her and to prove a point selected Sinead O'Connor on the karaoke machine, before singing it pitch-perfect. Claire was spellbound at her talented friend's voice as her hairs on her arm stood up.

  “You should record some of this,” she told her. “I mean properly. I play the electric guitar. If we could get someone on the keyboard, your vocals are just incredible.” Paige blushed so that her cheeks matched her hair.

  “Well it's just to chill. I'm not that good.”

  “You are, I know it's just an escape. But … wow!”

  “You could sing just as well, you just need to strip off. Try it,” Paige encouraged her with a grin and Claire relented. She gently folded her clothes and put them on the bottom bunk before attempting Whitney Houston's signature ballad. She cringed when it was played back to her, and Paige smiled. “Better at Pop and Rock?” She teased, and Claire nodded.

  “But I get it, it's good to sing naked.” She closed her eyes for a moment and hummed. “You know, I wonder if we could get access to a recording studio you could do something and put it on iTunes or something.”

  “We could do stuff together,” Paige suggested. “I dunno. I don't think I'm that good to get onto iTunes.”

  “You are,” Claire replied. “Really good. But there's only one way to find out.” Claire's eyes sparkled excitedly. “I've not felt like this before, we should. We should definitely do something. We could be the Undressed Couple or something.”

  Paige burst out laughing, and Claire shrugged. They heard a door close behind them, and Paige looked up at her bedroom door, as it slowly opened. “Are you in for tea?” Her mother asked her naked daughter, and Paige nodded.

  “Yeah, please.”

  “And … Claire isn't it?”

  Claire hummed and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I remember you from the camp. Do you want a bite to eat? It's only Pizza.”

  “Thanks,” Claire muttered and the door closed. “Now why can't Jack's mother have done that?”

  “Because my parents are not upper class twats,” Paige spat and picked up the microphone. “Go on, your choice. Which one?”

  Claire scanned the list and looked up. “If I can get us access to Jack's recording studio, will you make a demo tape. The recording studios should wet themselves with your vocals.”

  “Yeah, wet themselves laughing,” Paige joked and shook her head, but Claire was serious.

  “I mean it,” Claire asked. “Would you?”

  “I guess,” Paige replied. “But I really don't think I'm that good.”

  Chapter VI

  “And poof,” the weird-looking gentleman cried. “Not the only poof in here, is it?” A wisp of smoke appeared from an upturned hat, and the “magician” extracted a Rampant Rabbit dildo from it. “The Rabbit from the hat trick!”

  Andre laughed; he had en
joyed the magic show, despite being slightly uncomfortable that the male magician was dressed in a latex bustier, fishnet stockings and outrageously neon make-up. His adult-themed show was designed for his gay patrons, and he delivered it well.

  The young agent had felt decidedly uneasy at first; most of the audience fit a stereotype and he reasoned he was the only heterosexual in the room, although the barmaid was happy to flirt with him, partly because she probably presumed he was “that way inclined.”

  Andre fidgeted and was anxious, but as the show progressed and the alcohol entered his system he felt more at ease with himself. He was still not sure about signing “Pedro, the world's best magic bender,” but his uncle had been firm. “Go down there and get him to come back to the office if he's any good.”