Twisted Love and Money Read online

  Jeremy quickly glanced around, but the people at the other tables seemed unconcerned.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Dorothy asked sympathetically.

  Jeremy chewed a bit and then said, “ Dorothy, I don’t know how to say this. Since our first night together hardly a minute has gone by without my thinking of you.”

  Dorothy smiled, “… And Jeremy?” she urged him to continue.

  Jeremy swallowed, “David an me are as good as married in England,” he continued. “Really it will be as if my spouse is coming to Dublin on Friday and as if I am having an affair with someone else. You I mean Dorothy.”

  “What do you mean, as good as married in England?” Dorothy pursued logically, “why just in England?”

  “You are very perceptive Dorothy,” Jeremy replied, “ I know there are plenty of Gays in Dublin and lots have ‘come out.’ But I have not, not in Dublin. London is different; it has a population of eight or ten million. The whole of Ireland has only four million or so. London is much more anonymous. We don’t make it an issue in London and neither do the press, it’s like they think its part of publicity around our dress shop business.”

  “Don’t you have any Irish friends in London Jeremy?”

  “Very few. I avoid my own kind. I’m Gay. I don’t feel good about myself. I should but I don’t. Catholic guilt I suppose. I don’t feel good about people I know, you know, people who know my people, knowing about it.” He stammered, “God knows why, I suppose I’m scared word will get back to Dublin. Though that said we were never a close family.”

  “But your mother is still alive?” Dorothy ventured.

  “Yes. I have been unable to go home for nearly twenty years. I can’t face her. If she knew I was gay she would be disgusted. She is very old fashioned, an old fashioned catholic.”

  “You may be doing her an injustice. She may understand.”

  “No. We were very poor. She put me through scholarships. She scrimped and saved so that I could go to be a priest. It was her ambition, her dream. Unfortunately it was not mine.”

  “Your father?”

  “Oh. When he was alive he was an affable man. But she ruled the roost. He took the line of least resistance as far as the children were concerned. “You chucked it all in then Jeremy?”

  “Ran away from University to London. In London I met David. I have not seen home since. I ring at Christmas and Easter now that she has a phone and I write occasionally to my youngest sister in Tallaght. She feeds me the news. However I have decided to call on my mother and face her. She is getting old and soon I may not have the chance.”

  “Is that why you went out with me? To have a girl to show to your mother?”

  “No Dorothy.” Jeremy was vehement again, but he kept his voice low. “We got on, you and me, things happened Dorothy. I’m delighted that what happened, happened.”

  As he spoke Jeremy looked embarrassed and Dorothy looked urgently about, making sure they were not overheard.

  “So it was the sex,” Dorothy hissed, but with a smile.

  “Yes,” Jeremy said smiling, his eyes dancing.

  “And it was you Dorothy,” he added seriously, “we can talk. That is great, we can talk.” He sounded almost surprised. Dorothy looked at him, her eyes soft.

  “If I am your first girl, how can you know you are really gay?” she asked softly.

  “I want to experience a woman. I want to know. I don’t want this guilt.”

  “Guilt?”

  Jeremy looked abashed, as if the word had slipped out.

  “I have been afraid to say it to myself, but yes guilt. You know the saying that you can take a man from Catholicism, but can you take Catholicism from the man?”

  “Can you?”

  “I thought I could, but years have gone by and I feel I am being drawn back again. I was in a church the other day, but I could not pray. But I wanted to. And then again, I really did not want to. I’m so confused.”

  “Does it affect your sex life Jeremy?”

  “What?”

  “The guilt and confusion?”

  Jeremy was now very embarrassed at the directness and he searched for a reply.

  “Believe me, it matters. I’m sure in any relationship it matters if one partner appears to show no arousal. With a man it is hard to hide a lack of ability.”

  The waiter arrived to clear the dessert bowls, stopping the conversation.

  “Would you like to have coffee at my place?” Dorothy suggested.

  Jeremy replied by calling the waiter over. “The bill please,” he asked.

  “Dorothy,” he said when the waiter departed. “If you don’t mind, I would like to go home to my own hotel. Alone. I’m very confused. I want some space alone. I feel a huge cloud over me. Can you cut me some slack on this? I can see you tomorrow night.”

  “If you come back I might let you stay?” she teased.

  “No Dorothy,” Jeremy said with a friendly politeness, “I need your company. I need you to be my friend. I think if you allow it, we might be lovers. But I have to go softly. Do you understand?”

  “No, but I’ll cut you a bit of slack if you insist.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jeremy paid the bill and they left.

  As Dorothy stopped the car outside the Hotel entrance lobby, Jeremy leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Dorothy I have to see an Architect tomorrow night. It is an investment proposal I’m checking out. Would you like to meet us? The meet is in Larry Murphy’s pub. Drop in for a drink and I’ll take you home afterwards.”

  Dorothy was silent.

  “Please,” he added, eyes imploring.

  “All right. Good night Jeremy “ Dorothy leaned over this time and kissed him on the lips and he responded while struggling to get an arm around her shoulder.

  “See you sweetheart,” he said as they unclasped and he caught his breath.

  “Just a minute, I thought you said you worked in a dress shop. I’ve been meaning to ask you since I realized you are staying in the Shelbourne Hotel. And what are you doing with an Architect tomorrow night?”

  Jeremy smiled and opened the car door. “We own some shops, that’s what I meant. Did not want you to think I was too posh. The architect is something else. It has to do with a new block of flats. I’ll explain another time. But do come along. As I said, I am meeting them in Larry Murphy’s.”

  “Maybe,” Dorothy said, her face unreadable

  “You must,” he insisted and then stepped out of the car, closing the door. With a wave of the hand, he was gone.

  “Good night,” Dorothy called after him, lowering the electric window.

  Dorothy swore as she pulled the car back into traffic. Just her luck, the first man she really fancied had to turn out to be gay. Or almost gay, they had had some sex. Dorothy was confused but she was a persistent personality. She would not give up on Jeremy, not for a while yet, she decided.

  Jeremy watched her go, stepping back out from the cover of the lobby.

  “Goodnight,” he said and waved. Now there was a test, he thought. She would hardly follow up with their affair now he had revealed that he was gay. Jeremy valued loyalty above all other virtues. If she turned up for the next date after his revelations he would take her seriously. Time would tell.

  Chapter twelve

  “How are you Mr. Crawford?” Janet asked.

  “Terrible, I had some of the plastic food on the plane. I feel a bit nauseous.”

  “Have some soda water it might settle your insides.”

  “No thanks, I’m all right. Let me get you a drink.”

  Janet had phoned in her update report confirming that as planned, she had completed the interview using the cover of the quality survey. The message had come back. Mr. Crawford on route to Dublin. Jury’s bar at six.

  “I am impressed,” Janet said, “I just phoned in this morning and here you are Mr. Crawford.”

  “It is only an hour from London Janet, I thought it would be nice to s
ee you again. Are you settled in?”

  “Yes thank you. I have a flat in the Wavendon complex, just across the street from the Hotel. I presume you have taken a room in Jury’s Mr. Crawford, I recommended it to your secretary as it is so close to my own base.”

  “Yes, I have a room for the night. However I am due in London early tomorrow.”

  “You spend a lot of time on the road Mr. Crawford,” Janet offered sympathetically.

  “Too much Janet.”

  Crawford took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. He was perspiring lightly. He had come to Dublin on impulse, disrupting his normal schedule. Now he felt the worse for wear. He wondered if it was the excitement. He looked at Janet with warm eyes.

  He had her set up in Dublin now, reporting directly to him. How to get his hands on her? Business is business, he reflected, but he was doing well this year. He really did not need Janet’s project. What he really wanted was Janet. Janet with the consent of Janet. If only he could handle the situation.

  Janet watched Crawford carefully. She could see he was jumpy. Maybe he needed to slow down; at his age he should hop around less in airplanes. It would be just her luck if he had a heart attack. He really did look unwell. And that soppy smile, what to make of it? Whatever, sitting in a bar drinking was not going to help his condition.

  “Can I trust you Mr. Crawford?” she asked, leaning forward and looking concernedly into his face.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Trust you?” she repeated with a smile.

  “Of course not,” he laughed, half wheezed. “Remember Janet the words of Machiavelli “put not your trust in princes.”

  Janet sat back and shook her head, smiling.

  “What did you mean?” he asked puzzled.

  “You look a bit shook, Mr. Crawford. If I can trust you I would offer to take you back to my apartment. I’ll fix you a snack and you can relax properly. We can take plenty of time to go through my report. I want your full concentration.”

  Crawford smiled. “Call me Leo, Simmons and I will call you Janet.”

  “O.K.” she smiled back.

  “Let’s go,” Crawford said and stood up.

  He took Janet by the elbow and steered her out of the Hotel. They crossed the road and Janet directed them to a nearby block of apartments. Crawford could see that there were a number of blocks in the complex.

  “I took a penthouse on a three months lease, furnished,” she explained.

  The penthouse flat was small. There was a small lobby with an imitation Picasso on the wall to provide a splash of colour. To one side there was a bedroom with a bathroom en suite on the other side a large living room with a kitchen set in at the far end. The Kitchen was cut off from the living area by a bench cum breakfast area. There was a French window leading to a small balcony.

  “Small but beautiful,” Janet quipped. “Let me take your coat.”

  She led him into the living room. A large leather couch and two leather armchairs dominated the room. Carpeted and softly furnished it looked warm and cosy. Janet clicked on the CD and the music from Swan Lake came softly into the room.

  Crawford stretched himself out on the couch.

  Janet opened her briefcase. “Spare copy of my report,” she said, giving it to Crawford.

  As he flicked through the Report she went and got him an Alka-Seltzer.

  “Drink this,” she instructed. “I will make us a salmon steak with a side salad. Is that O.K.?”

  “Perfect.”

  “A drop of white wine?”

  “Wonderful.”

  Janet had a satisfied gleam in her eye. Everything was going as she planned. When she heard Crawford was coming personally to follow up her report she had done some shopping. She preferred to do business with him on her own turf rather than in an impersonal Hotel room.

  While Janet busied herself Crawford skimmed her report.

  “This Howlette Holdings proposal,” he threw out.

  “Yes?” Janet replied, pausing her chopping.

  “I think this could mess up the pitch. Thank you for sending me a copy.”

  “What do you think we should do?” Janet asked.

  “Send a copy to their Chairman, was the name O’Donoghue?”

  “Yes Leo, and I believe the address is in one of the appendices.”

  “If you send it to O’Donoghue he’ll have to come into play and find himself a white knight or some other solution to confound O’Byrnes,” Crawford suggested.

  “Will do,” Janet said cheerfully.

  Crawford continued to peruse Janet’s report, but he had no further questions.

  Then he layback listened to the music and let himself relax. Before he knew it he was asleep.

  Janet finished the cooking and put it on a plate. She saw him sleeping and she put the food beside the microwave. It would not spoil and when he awoke she would heat it up.

  Janet went and tidied up her bedroom and had a shower.

  She opened the wine when she came back. Crawford was still asleep. She decided she would make him have a shower when he woke up. She poured herself a glass and sat in the armchair opposite Crawford.

  He did not look any better in his sleep. He was short, wide and powerfully built. Thick skin, strong thick fingers, no impression of sensitivity or artistry about the face. Just a sense of power and confidence. Of course his eyes were penetrating. But he was far from sexy. His bum was too wide and his belly too soft. Janet liked them strong and firm muscled, with neat backsides. She sipped her wine and waited.

  Half an hour later Crawford snorted snored, snorted again and then awoke with a start.

  “What...” he began, sitting up.

  “Are you all right Mr. Crawford, I mean Leo?” Janet asked.

  Crawford looked over at her. She was dressed in a black dressing gown, her slippers off beside the couch. She held a long stemmed glass of white wine and appeared as if she had been absorbed in the music.

  “Excuse me,” he was embarrassed. She looked so cool, confident, “I must have dosed off. Inexcusable, excuse me.”

  “Don’t worry Mr. Crawford. There’s only me here. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes...yes.” He repeated the second yes with more confidence.

  Janet put her glass down on the coffee table and went over to him. “Your Jacket is crumpled. Let me have it. I’ll hang it up. I think you should go and have a shower to freshen up.”

  “A shower?”

  “Yes, to freshen up. I have a big dressing gown inside that you can borrow. Freshen up and then we can discuss my report.”

  “Your report, right.”

  Crawford sat up. He put his hand on his back. “A shower, good idea. I’m not as fit as I was.”

  “I did Shiatsu at college. You know, it’s a sort of massage technique. If you promise to be good I’ll give your shoulders a rub after your shower.”

  “Simmons,” Crawford said appreciatively. “You are a star.”

  He stood up. Janet pointed the way to the bedroom and Crawford found his way. There was a large unisex towelling dressing gown on the bed. He stripped and went into the shower.

  Fifteen minutes later he reappeared again in the living room wrapped in the dressing gown, carrying a towel that he was using to dry off his hair.

  “That was super,” he declared.

  “Something to eat?” Janet offered.

  “You said a shoulder rub. That would be nice.”

  “O.K., come over here.”

  Crawford came over to the couch. “Lie down on the carpet.” she instructed. “Face down, use your towel to rest your head.”

  Crawford got down awkwardly and then lay out flat.

  “Now just relax for a minute. Let your shoulders go slack,” Janet instructed. “I can’t do you in this dressing gown. I’ll just be a minute.”

  When she re-emerged she was wearing a black leotard. She had a small bottle of perfumed oil. Crawford looked up at her from his position on the floor. He was
speechless at the sight of her long legs. Janet smiled, she wondered how often Crawford had found himself in this position with his Male protégées. She guessed never. Despite her youth she was in charge of the proceedings. It gave her a kick to see how easy it was to get a powerful man stretched out on the floor.

  “Don’t move,” she said.

  With a wisp of a smile Janet peeled the dressing gown back off his shoulders. She loosened the belt and revealed a wide slab of white flesh that was his back. She went further revealing his buttocks and short stubby legs. “Don’t move,” she repeated and threw the dressing gown onto the couch.

  Janet knelt astride his back and he trembled.

  She started with his head, fussing his sparse damp hair. Then she began tapping his head with her fingers. He began to relax. The girl knew how to do what she was doing.

  Janet worked her way across his shoulders, down each arm, back down his buttocks and legs. She pulled each toe in turn.

  “Turn over.”

  Crawford turned over without any obvious sign of embarrassment.

  “Mr. Crawford?” Janet commented, and put a cushion from the couch to restore his modesty. It bobbed but held its position.

  Janet climbed on to his chest and began to massage his face. Crawford began to move his arms but she slapped down his hands.

  “Lie still or I stop.”

  He lay still.

  Janet smiled down at him as she massaged the front of his shoulders. Under the leotard her breasts moved with her every movement and he was tantalized with a view of her cleavage.

  “Janet,” he sounded choked but he was keeping still, afraid to break the spell. She raised an eyebrow. Moving down his body she sat on the cushion and began to massage his chest.