After three glasses of wine -- or was it four? -- it had seemed like a really good idea.
Rosemary had told Virginia that she would be perfect.
'Perfect?'
'Yes. Perfect. You're classy. You're elegant. And you're the right age.'
'The right age? You mean I'm old?'
'No! Not old. But older. Mature is the word they use. Look it up on the internet. Just Google "mature women".'
'Mature. It makes me sound like a piece of aged cheddar cheese.'
Rosemary had laughed. 'Well, you said that you needed to find a way to make a bit of extra money. I think you'd be great. And William is a really nice guy. He won't make you do anything that you don't want to do. You set your own rules. And you can go solo, or ... well ... you know. But it's up to you. And it's probably best to start out solo. You just do your own thing and the viewer imagines whatever he -- or she -- wants to imagine.'
Virginia had nodded. She didn't know why.
'It's not sleazy or anything,' Rosemary had said. 'William specialises in the top end. The classy end. He caters to people who will pay proper money for their titillation. And, of course, that makes your share better too.'
'Where does he do it?'
'Depends on the production.'
'No. I mean where does he ... well ... you know?'
'Oh. The audition? He has a villa. Out near the old windmill. It's a really nice place. I wouldn't mind living there myself. I should think that it must have cost a pretty penny.'
And now here Virginia was, out near the old windmill, and about to knock on William's door. 'Too late to turn back now,' she told herself.
The door was answered by a small middle-aged woman in a black dress with a crisp white apron. 'Hola.'
'Hola. I'm ... umm ... here to ... here to see ....'
The woman smiled. 'William,' she said. 'Si. Come on in. William is expecting you. He's in the ... umm ... audition studio. Just along here.'
Rosemary had been right. The villa was very nice. Very nice indeed. It was probably quite old. But Virginia guessed that someone had recently spent some serious dosh on its restoration.
'Virginia is here,' the woman in the white apron said as she pushed open a large wooden door at the end of the mosaic-tiled corridor.
William (Virginia assumed that he was William) was a slim man. Fiftyish. With short silvery hair and a neatly-trimmed beard. He was dressed in light tan chinos and a dusky pink polo shirt. 'Good. You found us then. Excellent.' And he held out his hand.
'Can I get you something to drink,' the woman in the white apron asked. 'A glass of cold white wine perhaps?'
The question was addressed to Virginia, but William answered. 'Yes. An excellent idea,' he said. 'Yes. Make that two, Maria. Gracias.'
In spite of what Rosemary had said, Virginia had been expecting William to be a bit of a wide boy, a bit of an East End car dealer. A flashy gold medallion or two, perhaps. But he wasn't. He was almost posh. Virginia could imagine him as an investment banker or something like that.
'Please ... have a seat,' he said. 'Perhaps on the sofa there. So ... I gather that you are a friend of the lovely Rosemary. Is that right?'
'Umm ... yes.'
'And she told you all about what we do?'
'Well ... sort of,' Virginia said.
'Good,' William said. 'Good.' And then he went on to tell Virginia pretty much what Rosemary had already told her. William had just reached the end of his little speech when the woman in the white apron -- Maria -- returned with two glasses of wine. 'Oh. Yes. Gracias, Maria. Gracias.'
Maria handed a glass of wine to each of them, smiled, and then left again, closing the door quietly behind her.
'That's a very nice dress,' William said. 'Those colours ... they ... umm ... they really suit you.'
'Thank you.'
'So ... what do your friends normally call you?' William asked. 'Are you Virginia? Or are you Bunty or Biggles or something like that?'
'Depends,' Virginia said. 'Sometimes I'm Virginia. And sometimes I'm Ginny. It just depends.'
'Ginny? Yes. Ginny. Is it all right if I call you Ginny? I like Ginny. Ginny's a nice name.'
Virginia -- Ginny -- nodded.
William took a sip of his wine. 'This wine is from a bodega just down the road. I keep trying to persuade them to make it available to some of the smarter London restaurants. But I think they manage to sell everything they make as it is. Oh, well.'
'It's very nice,' Virginia said.
'It is.' William set up a camera on a stand. 'So ... Ginny ... tell me a bit about yourself,' he said. 'You live here in Spain. Is that fulltime? Or do you split your time between here and Blighty?'
'I mainly live here,' Virginia said. 'Although I usually go back to England a couple of times a year. Just to ... you know ... catch up with a few people.'
William nodded. 'Yes. Nice to have a bit of a mix, isn't it? A bit of variety. And when you're here, what do you do? Retired?'
'I suppose so. Although I still do a bit of editing. Freelance. For a publisher back in the UK. But the rates aren't very good these days.'
William nodded as if he understood exactly what she was saying. 'And how old are you?'
'Sixty-two.'