Capital Sins (8 page)

'You're a
real honey,' he had told her as they glided across the dance floor oblivious to
anyone else. 'The best
looker
here, and that's what I
like to be seen with.'

She had nuzzled
his cheek. 'You're nice.'

They had
stayed together until the early hours of the morning, when he had looked at his
watch regretfully.

'I'd better
get going,' he had said. His evident reluctance matched hers.

Her small
nose had wrinkled in disappointment, and he had laughed and kissed its tip.

'Got to,
baby,' he'd said. 'It's way past my clocking-in time.'

Although
his goodbye kiss set her lips aflame, and she thought the effect was the same
for him, Connie thought it would be the last she would see of him, even though
she had given him her phone number and address when he had asked.

And
tonight, perhaps we'll drink more champagne, Connie thought, as she inhaled
another lungful of smoke. We'll get around to talking about each other, and
then he'll say he loves me ... She closed her eyes dreamily, imagining a rosy
future as the wife of Philip Dual.

There was
another knock on her door and Connie, opening her eyes, snapped out of her
reveries.

'Is that
you again, Mrs Withers?'

'No. It's
me, kid.
Tilly
.'

The girl
entered and grinned impishly.

'I think
you
oughta
know that your date's arrived, if I
ain't
mistaken, and you'd better go downstairs and get him
outta
Mrs Withers' clutches.'

Connie's
eyes widened and she started to her feet. 'He's here?'

'In Ma Withers' sitting room.
as
a matter of fact.
I wasn't under the impression that the old cow was
abaht
to tell you '
erself
straight
orf
that he'd arrived,
sorta
keep him to '
erself
for a bit longer, but her door was open as I came in
and I saw she 'ad someone with her. I recognised him, so she couldn't pretend
he weren't there, could she? She's right artful, that one. She wouldn't let him
come up '
imself
, probably
don"t
trust either of you ... '

'Thanks,
Tilly
, you're a doll.'

Connie
snatched up her bag and coat and gave a final nervous pat to her hair. 'I've a
feeling that tonight's going to be important to my future. Nothing must go
wrong now. How long do you think he's been here waiting?'

Tilly
leaned back against the door and watched Connie, smiling broadly.

'About
quarter of an hour, I guess. He's got '
er
so that she
don't
know whether she's coming or going, poor
baggage.' She winked cheekily.

Connie
laughed as she checked in her bag that she had everything.

'Did you
see what was happening between them?' she asked.

'Shouldn't think anything was going on, leastways, not with the door
still open.
But
them loose, floppy sleeves of that blouse she always wears was pulled way down
off her shoulders.
Gawd
knows what she thinks she was
revealing ...
coupla
bloody bean bags!'

Trying to
control her giggles, Connie quickly sprayed perfume behind her ears and into
her cleavage, then turned around.

'How do I
look?'

'Not bad, I
guess you'll do.'

'Thanks,
Tilly
,' Connie said gratefully.

'It weren't
nothing
,' the other girl replied, looking pleased.
'And if you two
ain't
engaged by next
Thursday, how's about us going out somewhere?'

'You're
on.'

And with
that remark, Connie made her way downstairs.

'Thank you
so much for looking after him
while
I was dressing,'
Connie dimpled at Mrs Withers after she had rescued him.

Philip Dual
opened the door for Connie and, as she went out, he turned back to Mrs Withers.

'Thanks for
the drink. See you some time, love,' he said jauntily, and the landlady's tight
lips dissolved into a coy smile.

Philip Dual
was the proud possessor of a fast and beautiful sports car, and the hood was
down but, before she had time to worry about the wind mussing up her hair, he
had leant over her knees and flipped open the glove compartment.

'There's a
silk scarf there for you, baby.'

'A
present?' she exclaimed in delight.

'Well, no.
I keep one handy so that people's hair stays in place. I'm considerate like
that.'

Connie
grimaced but tied it around her head. The motor was revved unnecessarily hard,
but evidently brought the desired result as people turned to stare. They roared
off to join the stream of traffic with a squeal of tyres.

'Where are
we going?' Connie asked, blissfully sinking deeper into the leather bucket
seats.

'I thought
we'd go back to my pad.'

The initial
disappointment she experienced soon gave way to glee as she realised it would
be that much more intimate at his home with just the two of them.
and
would give them a chance to really get to know each
other well.

'Hungry?'
he asked, risking a sidelong smile.

'Ravenous.'

'Good,' he
announced, accelerating the car and slipping into fourth gear to pass and
overtake a line of trucks. 'I've got it all laid on.'

After a ten
minute drive, they pulled up in the secluded car park of a large building. A
man appeared from a back entrance as Connie rose from the car, and she couldn't
help being impressed when Philip flung him the car keys saying, 'Garage it for
me, Saunders.'

The man
touched his cap respectfully. 'Yes sir.'

They made
their way to the front of the building which could hardly be seen from the road
as it was set way back and surrounded by trees. Philip led her through a marble
entrance attended by a uniformed doorman, and said good evening to a second man
seated behind a desk in the spacious hallway.

Philip put
his arm around Connie's shoulders as he pressed for the lift and, inside,
turned her to him and moved his arms around her.

'You're
looking exceptionally lovely tonight,' he said huskily, and bent his head, his
lips seeking hers.

Laughing,
Connie pulled away. 'Not here, Philip,' she said lightly.

He made a
face but didn't attempt to try to kiss her again. The lift doors opened
noiselessly and they stepped out. Less than a minute later, he had unlocked a
door and she found her self in his apartment. It was beautiful, and Connie
turned to him, her eyes shining.

'Do you
mean to say you live here alone?'

'My mother
stays with me occasionally.'

'Ah, that
would account for the feminine touches,' she said as she moved around,
examining things. She crossed over to a sideboard on which she noticed a framed
photograph. She picked it up and Philip answered the unspoken question in her
eyes.

'Mother and
I,' Philip said.
'Taken aboard the QE2 on her maiden voyage.'

'You don't
look much like her,' Connie observed, head to one side.

'Take after
my dear old pa. Don't worry about her, she won't be back tonight.' He helped
Connie off with her coat. 'Do sit down,' he invited. 'Make yourself
comfortable.'

She seated
herself on a white leather swivel chair. Not purposely choosing a single-
seater
, it just happened to be conveniently near.

'It's
really super,' she repeated, eyes wandering around the plush room.

'I hope
you'll see more of it,' he said meaningfully.

Connie
blushed
a little and fiddled with the strap of her handbag.
He sat opposite her on a couch and leaned towards an ivory cigarette box on a
coffee table, flipping up the lid.

'Want one?'

'Thanks.'

She took
one and waited while he lit it for her.

'A drink?'
he suggested, his eyes on her cleavage as he applied the flame to his own
cigarette.

She thought
doubtfully of her empty stomach. 'Not right now, thanks.'

'You want
to eat,' Philip stated, understanding.

'Please. Do
you want some help getting it ready?'

'Baby, you
just stay where you are and look pretty for me.'

She waited
while he loped off into what she supposed was the kitchen, and he emerged less
than five minutes later pushing a trolley laden with food and bottles. Her
mouth dropped open as she stared at it.

'All that, just for us?'

'All for
us,' he replied solemnly.

'Did you
cook it yourself?'

He grinned.
'I cannot tell a lie. There's a restaurant round the corner, does take-away
meals. Now,' he lifted the lid off a tureen. 'There's pate and hot toast,
followed by bird's nest soup
... '

'I don't
know if I could eat all that,' Connie interrupted, quailing at the name of the
soup.

' ... Or
escargots
?'

She
wondered which tasted worse.

'There's
Duck
a !'orange
, with
sauteed
potatoes and
haricots
verts
.'

Connie
licked her lips hungrily. The sight and smell of the steaming dishes were
affecting her taste-buds and she was so hungry, she didn't really care what she
ate.

'Ending up
with trifle and cream, or zabaglione ... I wasn't sure which you'd like.'

'It looks
gorgeous, but wildly extravagant.'

Philip
flung her a napkin. 'So get stuck in, baby.'

She lowered
her lashes. 'Connie, not baby,' she said demurely, hoping she wasn't offending
him.

'Sorry.
Connie.'

He
proceeded to open a bottle of champagne, cold and sweating straight from the
fridge. 'Want some now?'

'
Mmm
, yes.'

He poured
the foaming, bubbling liquid into a deep goblet.

'Here's to
you, beauty,' he toasted.
'To an enchanting girl whom I hope
to see a lot more of.'

She
raised
her glass, clinked it against his, and they drank
deeply.

'Who washes
up afterwards?' she asked innocently a moment later, and he laughed.

'Don't
worry your head about such mundane matters. Just enjoy yourself, baby.'

Connie
didn't bother correcting him again.

'Want the
television on while you eat, or do you
prefer
to
listen to records?' he asked as she chewed on the snails cautiously and found
the flavour tasty.

She
followed his example and mopped up the garlic sauce with a hunk of French
bread. 'Is it colour?' He nodded. 'Can we watch TV then?'

'At your service.'
He pressed a control by his side and the screen lit up into life and
action.

As they
finished their meal, the Hollywood movie they had been watching ended.

'Want to
see more... Connie?' He was careful to call her by her name now.

'I don't
think so.' She stretched back, uncaring if her dress creased, and wished she
could take off her shoes which were hurting, they were so tight. 'J wouldn't
mind listening to some music, though,' she said sleepily.

'Let me
just get rid of these dirty dishes.'

He wheeled
the trolley back into the kitchen and brought a fresh bottle of champagne back
with him.

'Have some
more bubbly,' he offered and Connie willingly held out her glass, realising
that she was getting tipsy, but not caring.

While she
buried her small nose in the gas, Philip went over to the stereo, selected some
records and, as the voice of Lena Horne filled the
room,
he dimmed the lights by turning a switch on the wall. It was very romantic.

'Come and
sit down here with me.' He held out his hand to her as she settled on a pile of
cushions on the floor.

Without
hesitation, Connie joined him, bringing their drinks with her. Philip stretched
out on his back and Connie lay at right angles to him, her head resting against
his chest. He stroked her hair which covered the top half of his body like a
blanket.

'Isn't this
good?' he said softly. She agreed that it was.
Very.

'Cigarette?'

'
Uhuh
.'
The throbbing music seemed to be melting her
bones: the drink made her feel slow and lethargic.