Deranged Marriage (28 page)

‘Can I just interrupt? You were sleeping together but she slept with other men? Didn’t that give you a clue that she wasn’t interested?’ Anton was a jerk. If he was sleeping with Felicity then she was a jerk as well.

‘She reassured me to the contrary. Have you ever been in love, Anton?’

‘No, I’m married.’ He laughed at his hilarious joke.

‘Well, then you are luckier than me. Holly said that we would end up together, she promised that and I love her as much now as the day we met. I didn’t sue her to hurt her, but to make her see what she was throwing away.’

‘But you weren’t successful were you?’ Felicity said. No, of course I wasn’t you single-brain-celled bimbo, otherwise I wouldn’t fucking be here. I took a deep breath.

‘No, which wasn’t a surprise. I’m a lawyer and I knew my chances of winning were slim. I just wanted her to see how much she means to me.’

‘But if she doesn’t want you, don’t you think you’d be better off walking away?’ Anton asked, looking too smug. This wasn’t as easy as I thought.

‘Perhaps I would, but I know in my heart that I am meant to be with Holly and she’ll realise one day that she’s meant to be with me.’

‘Thank you George, I’m afraid that’s all we have time for...after the break we meet Kelly, the kitten who can tell the time.’

They beamed. I smiled. Then I said my curt thank yous and left. I sat in the dressing room and called Cordelia.

‘You were marvellous,’ she said.

‘It was a fucking fiasco. Those brainless morons couldn’t interview a chimpanzee.’

‘Actually they can’t even interview a kitten, which is what they are trying to do as we speak, but they are very popular, and you came across very well. Keep it up this afternoon and we’ll be home and dry.’ I felt slightly reassured.

The afternoon interview was with Nancy Witter. She came to meet me before the show went on air and we ran over what she knew about me, and I filled in the blanks. She was lovely, reminded me of my mother, when my mother had been talking to me.

‘So, what we will do is talk a bit about your story, then I’ll ask a couple of questions then to finish I’ll ask if you have a message for Holly, which you can then relate.’

‘Sounds good.’

And it was. I told my story without any mocking. The sympathy on Nancy’s face was so genuine I wanted to cry. Then finally she asked me if I had anything I would like to say to Holly. I looked straight at the camera on cue.

‘Holly, if you’re watching, I want you to know that I love you so much. Please come back to me.’ Then I let a single tear roll down my cheek.

I called Cordelia from my dressing room.

‘George you’re a genius—the tear—my God, you almost had me crying and I never cry.’

‘It was genuine, Cordelia.’

‘Of course it was. No question. Now if there is anyone left in the country with any sympathy for Holly I’ll eat my Manolo Blahniks.’

In the taxi on the way back to my flat I thought for the first time about Holly. Had she seen the programmes? Of course she would have done. There was no way that she could resist watching. I wondered if they had swayed her yet. I wondered if we’d got rid of Joe. I had an overwhelming desire to talk to her but knew that I mustn’t. I had been told by Cordelia to let her come to me. I was so psyched by the way things were going that I knew it was just a matter of time.

The press picked up on my television appearances and I got some good coverage. It was superb. There was even a phone poll in the biggest national daily newspaper asking people to vote if they thought Holly should marry me! I was gaining ground each day. By the time I came to do the show with Michael Martin, I had gained enough confidence not to feel nervous any more. I felt like an old hand and more than that I was enjoying myself. The lights, the cameras, the action. It was an amazing buzz.

However, Martin’s show was different because I sat on a stage, told my story, then members of the audience asked me questions. Cordelia had told me that this was the sort of show where you needed the audience onside from the word go. I had no idea because I never watched this sort of thing. I knew there were hundreds running in America but not being the sort of person who had time for daytime TV, I never watched. Julia and I called it trash TV. I felt a pang as I was reminded of her but pushed it away. I wasn’t trash and this was TV. That was all.

I was the third guest, and the show was about unrequited love. Which annoyed me because my love wasn’t unrequited, it was just unrealised, which is what I said. I looked at the audience and at the scary fat man in the ill-fitting checked shirt and the woman who had warts on her nose, and knew I didn’t belong there. I was going to kill Cordelia.

However, in the meantime I needed to say something, so I told my story, with the tear which now seemed to appear on demand. I told them the same I’d told everyone, there was nothing new to say and no new way of saying it. When the audience got to speak, one woman asked me if I’d marry her, another said that Holly was blatantly a fool. A man told me he admired me for being able to admit my feelings, another said that I should move on because she didn’t deserve me. Unlike the ugly people that I shared the set with, I gained the audience sympathy, and their affection. When Michael read out a statement from Holly (who refused to attend), they booed. I was once again triumphant as they applauded and cheered for me. They liked me, they supported me, they reaffirmed my belief that I was right.

As I left, I was asked for my autograph. It was such an amazing feeling, imagine being asked for your autograph for the first time ever. I signed with a flourish and whistled as I sat in yet another taxi.

Instead of going home I went straight to Cordelia’s office. She was almost orgasming she was so pleased with me.

‘You are not going to believe it. I’ve had letters and e-mails forwarded on from newspapers and the TV shows. You’re a huge hit with the public. Huge. Mammoth. Let’s go to lunch, I feel like celebrating.’

‘Don’t I have anything else on today?’

‘No, nothing until tomorrow night, the
Keith
Northam
Show
. Besides I’ve got loads of other offers for us to talk about. Come on, I’m buying.’

We went to an expensive French restaurant where Cordelia ordered champagne. Before we chose food we discussed the offers.

‘I’ve got a request from the
Mail
for an interview, they haven’t covered you yet and feel a bit left out, so I agreed to that. They’ve got a huge circulation. Then
GQ
want to do an interview with photos.’

‘A photo in
GQ
?’

‘I know, fab isn’t it. Then we’ve got a few more shows, I suggest you do. Also, the
Herald
will have the result of your poll the day after tomorrow, they want you to comment on the outcome.’

‘I don’t know what to say. Some woman asked for my autograph today.’

‘Darling you better get used to it, because you’re a hit.’ She touched my hand, lightly, I smiled at her. The champagne and the success was making me horny. Beyond horny. This wasn’t like anything I’d felt before, it was spreading through my entire body. I had no idea what it was but it felt great.

We ordered lunch and ate it but I didn’t take my eyes off Cordelia. Of course I would rather be taking Holly to bed, but she wasn’t likely to agree to that and I needed a physical release. I ordered another bottle of champagne and made sure that Cordelia drank more than me. When she asked for the bill, I pounced.

‘I want to prepare for Keith Northam’s show and thought I would look at some pre-recorded videos, maybe you’d care to join me?’ I gave her a direct look.

‘Where are they?’ Her voice was husky and I knew that she wanted to.

‘My place.’

‘Well, you’re my biggest client, I can hardly refuse.’ She paid the bill and we hailed a cab back to my flat.

When we were in the cab I put my hand on her thigh but nothing more. I could tell by the look on her face that she had no objections. It was a simple gesture. I noticed she had on stockings (not those dammed tights—passion killers) and I wasn’t sure who was more turned on. I paid for the taxi, and she was looking at me with a sexy expression; I could tell she was aching for it. I led her into the flat, and as soon as we were through the door I kissed her.

The kiss was hard. Months of frustration went into that kiss. When we pulled apart she was breathless.

‘I thought you wanted to watch the tapes,’ she said, teasingly.

‘Get your blouse off.’ I knew Cordelia’s type. They came across all hard and bossy but really all they wanted was to be told what to do. She undid her blouse and let it slip to the floor. I didn’t touch her. ‘Your skirt,’ I commanded, and watched as she unzipped it and let that fall. She stepped out of it and I looked at her. I wanted her. She was wearing a pair of tiny white satin pants, her bra which cupped her smallish breasts matched, as did her suspender belt clipped to her natural stockings. Her high-heeled shoes were still on her feet.

‘Keep the shoes on, but take your bra off,’ I snapped.

‘Kiss me,’ she said, her voice all girly and seductive.

‘Not yet...do as I tell you.’ My voice was commanding and I could see her getting more and more flushed. She unhooked her bra and her breasts were free, with nipples hard as peanuts. I made her stand there but kept staring at her as I took off my suit, my shoes, my shirt, finally my socks. Then I moved towards her.

‘Suck me,’ I ordered and she removed my boxer shorts and sank to her knees.

I had missed sex so much. Cordelia was fucking brilliant. She sucked and licked me till I climaxed, then I brought her to orgasm using my tongue. I turned her over and took her from behind, and she squealed with pleasure. We hit the top of the scale at the same time and collapsed on the floor.

‘Wow! I have never had sex like that before,’ she said, breathing heavily.

‘Me either. You’re a fucking sexy woman Cordelia.’ I looked at her, although I had removed her pants she was still wearing her stockings and shoes.

‘I want more,’ she demanded.

‘Be my guest.’

She straddled me. We had sex countless times, and each time it got better. She was the horniest woman I’d ever met. She was mine for the taking and I would be taking more and more.

The following morning when we woke up she seemed hesi¬tant.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘I’m your publicist, George,’ she replied.

‘Exactly, which is why this is so perfect. No one can read anything into us spending time together. I’m very upset at the moment, you didn’t think that it was wise to leave me alone. You’re the PR you work it out.’

‘So you want it to happen again?’

‘Right now for starters, but only for starters.’

‘You’re my client, I must do as you ask.’ She resumed her coquettish manner.

‘Then get your head down and go to work.’

Cordelia had to go into the office which left me with time to kill before my car came to pick me up to go to the studio. I thought about what had happened. I surprised myself because I’d never been the dominant type that liked to tell women what to do, I was normally too busy taking care of their needs. Julia had made me nervous in bed because what I felt for her was a mix of the emotional and physical. There was a tenderness between us. But with Cordelia, I knew she wanted me to take her hard and instruct her what to do. It turned her on as much as it did me.

*

The Keith Northam interview wasn’t live. So, although it was due to go out that evening, we were filming it in the afternoon. There was an audience and other guests, famous guests. An England footballer (I’m ashamed to say I didn’t know any England players), and a pop star called Saffron, I didn’t know her either. There was a buzz in the studio that I hadn’t experienced before. The audience had come to see the celebrities and the host. Suddenly it occurred to me as I went into make-up that I was a part of it. I was on the same show as these ‘stars’. I winked at Tessa, who was applying my make-up, and realised that just by being here, my celebrity status was being acknowledged as well.

This was a proper television show. The host was funny and popular and the viewers cut right across the range, not just housewives and students. I was still on a high from the realisation of who I was. I was still pumped up from the great sex with Cordelia. It was amazing the confidence that followed a good screw.

The recording started, I was the last guest on. I waited for my cue and when it came, found that the other guests were staying on set. I kissed the singer, shook hands with the footballer and with Keith.

‘Oh you’re a lovely boy,’ Keith said, and the audience howled. I wasn’t sure of his motives. Was he trying to embarrass me or come onto me? Intimidation hung in the air, but I was determined not to crumble. I had to remember who I was; a rising star.

‘Thanks, shame Holly Miller doesn’t think so,’ I replied and got another laugh. Then Keith proceeded to relate my story, in his own words.

‘This poor man has been abandoned by his one true love. It turns out that she used him for sex, not something all men would complain about admittedly, but George isn’t happy. You actually tried to sue her didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I laughed, because that seemed to be appropriate. ‘I was so grief-stricken at being rejected that I took her to court to try to enforce the pact we’d made to marry at thirty.’

‘Are you thirty?’

‘I am, we both are.’

‘So what happened?’

‘It wasn’t successful. The judge dismissed it, which wasn’t a surprise but it left me with a broken heart. Ever since then I’ve been trying to get her to realise that we’re made for each other.’

‘Oh well, if she doesn’t want you I know a lot of other people who do.’ Keith winked at me and the interview was over. Just like that.

It amazed me every time, how short these interviews were. They barely gave you a chance to say ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ before it was over. Blink and it’s gone. But I contented myself with the fact that the TV exposure I was getting, no matter how brief, was bringing me closer to my goal. It was enough. Enough to make me a celebrity.