Chapter 5.
University College
He met her at an opening of an art exhibition, in one of the great halls of the University. It was a rainy day; he was trying to find a way to kill time and discovered the event quite by chance. Quite by chance and without intent he noticed her standing next to him, looking at the same canvas
She was breathtakingly beautiful; slightly taller than him, a study in willowy curves with miles-long legs and a healthy pair of breasts that poked straight out with the incredible firmness that only a young girl may possess. She sported the supermodel-whore look that seemed to be the current rage with the young ladies these days: a lime green one-piece outfit that featured long sleeves, cut wide-open in the front down to the huge metallic buckle of a four-inch wide leather belt that rested on her hips, before ending in abbreviated bun-hugging shorts that displayed her fishnet stocking-clad thighs to their best advantage. She wore a sleeved shawl over her playsuit, crocheted in an open hooked pattern from strands of thick black yarn that made it look like it was fabricated from a circus act’s safety net; it hung down almost ankle-length. Her long legs sank down into a pair of calf-high boots, stiletto-heeled, of course. Her long, blonde hair was done up in the back into a loose bun, held in place with a pencil of all things, balancing out the slut-chic look with the slightly sophisticated air of a busy academic. A tightly tied paisley pattern silk scarf in tan and beige emphasized her long, thin neck. She regarded the world through a pair of round, wire-framed granny glasses tinted blue that served to enhance the cornflower blue of her eyes, and to magnify the pure sexual message her persona transmitted.
Ludlow wondered if she was American; he assumed he’d never have a chance with such an incredible bird.
The work they stood before was a typically unoriginal modern that featured thin lines on a washed jade green background; it looked like it was inspired by an engineer’s technical drawings. She was barely aware of his presence when he decided to strike up a conversation. "What do you think?"
“I don’t know if I like it. Perhaps here, in this setting, but I don’t think I could live with it. What do you think?”
“I dunno,” he said honestly. “Predictable. Average. Boring.”
“Do you like art?”
“I don’t like this.”
“What do you like, then?”
“Give me an honest Rembrandt, or a good Michelangelo over this modern stuff any day.”
“I could go with that,” she replied, and she ended up going with him.
Her straight, long hair and the blue-tinted wire-framed sunglasses she wore gave her a sixties-era hippy-chick look that Ludlow found fascinating. Ludlow imagined they looked an odd pair, he in his tweeds and turtleneck, she with her love beads and granny glasses. He wondered if he’d ever have a chance with the taller girl.
Over cappuccinos in the Student Union he told her his name; Jonathon Ludlow. Her name was Barbara, she was twenty-two, and she seemed very talkative. His first impressions were incorrect; she wasn’t American, she was a surprisingly fresh and vivacious London girl in her second year at University, studying history. Although she felt it was a bit of a waste of time, attending University to study a subject that one could very well do on their own, she didn’t know what else would interest her enough to make an effort at. In the same offhand manner she casually commented that she was currently experimenting with lesbianism, as if it were a class she was taking. All her past boyfriends, she stated candidly, knew more about football than fucking.
It was growing late. Ludlow suggested dinner. Barbara accepted. His car delighted her; she practically squealed as she slid around on the Jaguar’s calfskin interior. The place he took her to pleased her even more; very expensive and very exclusive. She ate with gusto; one could barely survive on the food they dished up in the University cafeteria, she told him. “So tell me about yourself,” she said, spearing a piece of perfectly done steak with her fork and popping it into her mouth.
He told her the usual cover story; he was Canadian, from northern Ontario - true - an electrical engineer – also true - he worked for a steel company as a sort of consultant to overseas clients – this part was cover. He was taking a couple of years off to finish a graduate degree. He was single, never married, no kids – this part was true as well. Barbara seemed truly contented in his company.
They ended up in a pub near the University grounds – neutral grounds for a first date. Barbara was washing her meal down with a pint of beer, Ludlow nursed a single malt Scotch. A hulking young man suddenly interrupted their tête-à-tête.
“So wot’s this then? I thought you were going lesbo?” he said rudely. He was obviously some kind of jilted ex-; one of the football types Barbara had mentioned earlier, obviously full of grog.
“Oh, I, uh . . . . . . go away, Reggie. Don’t you know it’s over between us?” She was clearly upset.
“And who’s this geezer? You screwing the profs now, eh?” Reggie poked a couple of hard fingers into Ludlow’s chest. With that gesture he made two mistakes; his first and his last.
