Bums on Seats (17 page)

Perhaps Sir Maurice wanted more detail about Zombek? That could be dodgy. He sat down and dialled.

“Hello Nadia, Simon, I got your message. How exciting!”

Hi, Simon. Thanks for calling back. It’s nothing to worry about. Sir Maurice often sends people personal notes by hand, especially when he’s pleased, it’s his style. I rang to make arrangements to deliver it.”

“I’ll come and collect it if you like. Just tell me your address and when it would be convenient.”

“Wouldn’t that be a trouble for you, Simon?”

“No, not at all. I’m having a very casual Saturday, Nadia. I went to the bookshop late morning. Then I stopped off for steak and fries and a glass of Beaujolais. I was just thinking about writing some stuff now. I’d love an excuse to dodge it.”

“Oh well, if you’re sure…”

“Yes, really, that’s fine. If it’s OK with you, tell me where and when and I’ll call by.”

“How about an hour from now? I live at Hazeldine Tower, on the East Road, Apartment No. 46, which is on the fourth floor. Do you know the building?”

“An hour’s fine, Nadia. Yes, I’ve often driven by. It’s an impressive building.”

“Good, that’s good.” She sounded pleased. “Drive down into the basement garage and take the lift. The security entry code this week is 4963. See you then. ’Bye.”

“I’ll be there around three o’clock. ’Bye, Nadia.” He was surprised at her address. Hazeldine Tower was locally known as Tycoon’s Tower. It was glass and concrete and expensive. Simon wondered how she afforded that on a Personal Assistant’s salary. Perhaps she had family money.

Nadia was O.K. She was typical of the students on his part-time MBA course; late twenties, bright, hard-working and ambitious. And, of course, she worked directly for the Chairman of the Board of Pucklebridge University Governors. Simon must maintain the right impression. He showered and changed to make the best of himself.

“He’s coming at three o’clock.”

“Good, that’s great. We’d best get ready, then.”

Nadia retrieved the handwritten heavy vellum envelope from her bag and placed it on the coffee table. She read again the accompanying note addressed to her. ‘This young man has become extremely valuable to us. We must ensure that he feels well regarded.’ It was simply signed ‘M’. Nadia smiled at her companion before leaving the room to freshen up and change.

Simon reached out of the window and pressed 4963 into the keyboard. The barrier lifted. There were plenty of free car spaces, which in any case were not numbered. At the lift he keyed the same number sequence and heard the motor start. At the fourth floor a sign pointed left for Apartments 45–49. The corridor was smartly decorated. The apartment doors radiated solid respectability; He fixed a nice smile and rang the bell.

“Hello, Simon, come in.”

“Hi, Nadia. Thanks for letting me come to your home. I brought you a little something.” He handed over a box of Belgian chocolates, acquired in a five-minute supermarket dash.

“Oh, that’s nice.” She kissed his cheek and astounded him by calling out, “Simon’s here and he’s brought us a present.”

In the sitting room a stunning blonde girl got to her feet and held out her hand.

“Madeleine Cartwright. I’ve heard a lot about you, Simon. You’re Nadia’s number one lecturer!” She was in her late twenties, well-spoken and looked very fit.

“Maddy! How could you?” Nadia chided.

Simon cut back in. “Are you at the university? I’ve not seen you. I’d have remembered.”

“No, I read Maths at Imperial College. I came down six years ago. Mind you, I lived in Pucklebridge as a girl, so I know the area well.”

“Glass of wine, Simon?” Nadia pressed one on him without waiting for his answer, passed one to Madeleine and sat next to him on the sofa with her.

“I don’t seem to have much to do with the university. I do know a girl called Chloe Hodgekiss though. Do you know her?”

“Good Lord! Yes! I’m involved in a big project with her. How do you know her, Madeleine?”

“Call me Maddy. Everyone does. Chloe was at Imperial College too and we both represented London Universities at fifteen hundred metres. She went on to become an international for a couple of years.”

“I never knew that. She’s never said. How about you, Nadia?”

“Call me Naddy. Yes, I know Chloe. I did 400 metres hurdles for the County here for some years. I met Maddy and Chloe through other athletes, after a Universities versus Counties meeting at Crystal Palace. Maddy and I became friends and when she got a job down here we decided to share this apartment.” She carried on speaking but Simon lost concentration. He started to speculate about his companions and felt a vague disappointment at possible exclusion.

The talk drifted to keeping fit. “Naddy and I don’t compete now, but we keep in training.” Madeleine refilled his glass. “We mostly run to the Common, do a circuit or two, and run back each day. That’s about five miles.”

Simon looked speculatively at Nadia’s well-developed upper half. She read his mind and said, “Because I competed at shorter distances I needed upper body strength. That’s the way it is. You need to get lots of air through your lungs quickly. So I did weight training, and still do a bit.”

Simon, whose weight training was confined to regularly lifting a wine glass or a beer jug, felt envious of the implied self-discipline. He resolved to answer the very next piece of junk mail that promised him immense pectoral muscles after just a fortnight.

After a while Madeleine announced, “I have an errand to do,” drained her glass and left. The front door slammed shortly after.

Simon sipped and looked through the picture window across nearby rooftops to Pucklebridge Common. It was a very pleasant outlook. He couldn’t exactly say how it came about, but he found himself holding hands with Nadia. They didn’t say much, just took the occasional sip and relaxed. It was very agreeable. He wondered about the chances of getting his hands on the fruits of the weight training.

A little later she smiled and said simply, “Come on, Simon.” He could have done a little dance as she led him to a bedroom. It was nicely decorated and furnished but the dominating feature was a king-size bed. Perhaps he meant queen-size, he thought.The pace quickened briefly as they undressed each other and slipped under the duvet. Then, somehow, they relaxed again. They held each other, but he could easily have nodded off. How extraordinary!

After ten minutes or so, he heard the front door open. Damn! Maddy was back. Another opportunity blown? He had a further alarming thought. What if there should be trouble. Had he created a domestic situation? Might there be an embarrassing scene?

Another minute or two and the bedroom door opened. Maddy stepped in. She came round to Simon’s side of the bed. She was stark naked. She was magnificent. Her legs looked as if they could run forever. She lifted the cover and joined them!

As a lad of eleven or twelve, Simon had been enthralled by tales from Greek mythology. He was naturally endowed with a vivid imagination, coupled with a strong sense of fate. The strange and frightening beasts in the epics had impressed him most. He’d been disturbed by the thought of Cerberus the multi-headed dog, and frightened of the idea of Hydra, the many-headed water snake. Medusa, whose very hair was transformed into a nest of serpents, terrified the lad. Being in bed with Maddy and Naddy turned out like imprisonment in the lair of a fabulous beast.

The Maddynaddy creature had two heads, each with insatiable mouth and searching tongue. Its four breasts and nipples rubbed and teased a man this way and that to desperation. Its four arms and four legs entwined and imprisoned one. He might as well have been bound to the mattress. Escape was impossible. Like the Hydra, you could detach one part of it but another came looping around to stroke and pull and tease you.

The beast had no sense of ‘give and take’. It was programmed for ‘must and lust’. Somehow his arms were always pinned down by one part or other of the Maddynaddy. The creature straddled and drew him into itself whilst one of its mouths engaged his. The thing contorted body and appendages in unison. He began the short journey to climax. The beast sensed it. The mouth detached and a torso lifted and pressed perspiring breasts firmly over his face. He had been breathing quickly. Now there was no air whatever. Movement was impossible. It was much too strong. The other half of the Maddynaddy quickened its rate. He tried to plead. The noise was confined to his larynx. The beast accelerated again. He panicked. His heart must surely burst. Over the roaring in his ears he heard the rhythmic chant “Simon…Simon…Simon.” He ejaculated and lost consciousness simultaneously.

Air! Beautiful air! He breathed again and cried at the relief. The Maddynaddy was very comforting. It wiped away his tears and towelled down his body. It kissed him, caressed him and made comforting noises. Ultimately it induced a returned sense of wellbeing. But it still held him down. There was no freedom. By and by the caresses became more directive, more wilful. He tried to resist, for fear of what might follow. It was impossible. The thing was too knowing. It divined areas of sensitivity and was shameless with its fingers, lips and tongues. He was prepared again and it was completely obvious!

The Maddynaddy seemed not to have any needs of its own, other than to produce responses from Simon. He wondered why Zeus had created the beast. Was it to drive home the fact that young men are, after all, slaves to sex? Simon had no further time for fanciful pondering. This time the beast reversed roles. The other torso straddled him at the thighs. Its other half at first lowered to the pillow, kissing him in the fashion of a lover. He enjoyed this and felt reassured. Alarmingly, it lifted itself and rested a large nipple on his lips. He engaged it and relaxed again. The torso across his hips sometimes slowed to a stop. Then, when he started to decline, it quickened again.

In a while the Maddynaddy changed personality again. Lips briefly engaged his, and then disengaged. The creature got up from the pillow and straddled his chest. A pair of knees pinned down his biceps. The other torso across his hips shortened its movements. Simon started quick breaths. That was a mistake, but beyond his control. Without warning, the thighs across his chest slid forward to his face. He couldn’t breathe again. Strong hands gripped his wrists. The cyclic movements became very rapid. “Simon…Simon…Simon.” Everything went black again, his ears hurt from blood pressure. This was Hell, the true home of the beast. He climaxed. As he slipped away he thought he heard a voice shout, “Get off, Maddy – quick!”

When he came to, all was quiet. He could move arms and legs. He lay quietly on his side in the recovery position, and then opened an experimental eye. He was alone in the beast’s lair. The bedside clock said four-thirty. He was so weary. Another five minutes and he made the effort and sat on the edge of the bed. He made a silent promise. ‘God, if you just let me off this time, I’ll never philander again.’ He rested, then shakily dressed, resolving to make a fight of it if necessary. Nothing tried to stop him. Simon walked quietly to the bedroom door and started down the hall to the front door. A noise alarmed him. He stopped. There were sounds of activity and voices. He stepped to an open door and peeped.

There was no need for caution. There, in another queen-size lair, the insatiable Maddynaddy was completely oblivious. It was totally engrossed. It was loving itself.

Simon let himself out and walked unsteadily to the lift, his car, home and safety.

An hour later, in his armchair, he opened Sir Maurice’s letter, the sole purpose of his visit to the lair of the Maddynaddy. The key words were: ‘Thank you so much for your sterling efforts on behalf of the university. Contrary to the perceptions of some social commentators, I am much heartened by the qualities of our up and coming young people. When the time arrives for me to step aside, I shall be quite content to leave matters to capable people like yourself, Nadia and others of similar ilk…’

Simon reached for the Yellow Pages and searched under ‘M’. Mobile phones… Money lenders.. Motor cars… He looked for Monastery, wondering if he met the qualities required of a novice entrant.

CHAPTER 19

Simon lifted a hand and caught Luke’s attention. The bar was unusually crowded for the time of day. The publican wore the inane smile of a business lunatic, rescued unexpectedly from the brink of bankruptcy. “Hi Luke. I’ve just got them in.”

“Thanks, Simon! Ahh … that tastes great. Good to see you. Are you all right?”

“I feel a bit low to be honest, Luke. I suppose it’s coming back from Zombek and getting into the old routine.” He wasn’t going to tell anyone about his experience with the Maddynaddy. He privately thought those girls should have a Government Health Warning nailed to their front door!

“Yeah, I guess after the trip and setting up the contract and everything, it takes a while to settle. Thanks for your emails with the progress reports.”

“That’s fine. Where have you been, then, Luke?”

“I had a two-week industrial assignment as part of my course. So everything’s on programme for our project then, Simon. What does your colleague in the Economics Faculty think?”

“Chloe’s been away, too. She’s doing a bit of consultancy for a firm up north. I’ve been emailing her. When she comes back, we’ll start detailed planning. The next step is to decide how we deal with Admissions to the course. We’ll sort it. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sure you will, Simon. We have every confidence in you.”

They talked a bit more about Zombek and Luke’s hopes for his country. He got the tankards refilled. After a while they agreed to meet again, when Simon and Chloe had decided how to deal with selecting and admitting the intended students to the first year. Luke made no reference, throughout their meeting, to the arrangements with the bank in St. Helier.

The bar became fuller and noisier. As they left, the publican was actually laughing and eating a pork pie. ‘The condemned man ate a hearty breakfast,’ thought Simon. As it happened fate was about to cast Simon in the role of the condemned man, but not for another two days.

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