After taking Dorothy to the land of Oz - Orgozm and plenty of them, I went home and collapsed for a few hours to be awoken by the phone.
Mrs. Croker. “Afternoon Allen,” boomed her cheery voice. “I hear from Mrs. Mason, er Betty, that you made quite and impression on her daughter, and on her. She is extremely pleased. She told me what you did and also told me that their phone has been ringing off the hook with men looking for dates with the lovely Dorothy. She is going out to dinner tonight. Talking about tonight, what have you got planned?” On hearing a negative response, she went on. “I’ve booked you for a show and late supper with an old client of ours. Janine Turner is a theatre critic and prefers to be escorted when she is on the job, so to speak. She’ll meet you in the lobby of the Lycaeum Theatre at 7.30. She’s shortish and will be dressed in a black cape with a red rose on the lapel. Don’t be late. Janine is not a woman to mess with.”
Yep, Janine was clearly not a woman to be messed with. I was two minutes late and she was pacing up and down the lobby, looking at her watch. She saw me and glared. “You’re late young man.” She grabbed my arm and hauled me up the stairs to a private box overlooking the stage. Before the curtain rose, she grabbed my arm. “This is supposed to be an avant garde production of The Merchant of Venice. We’ll see about that. As a young, and I suppose virile young man, you may be interested in the fact that it is performed in the nude.”
I blinked in surprise. “Right. Sure, sounds reasonable.” I smiled at her and her rather harsh features lifted with the corners of her mouth. The curtains went up. What an absolute waste of money. Crap from beginning to end. The naked women were unappealing mainly due to eerie green lighting and the men fared just as well. Not an ounce of entertainment value in it. “This is pure unadulterated crap,” I announced.
“Early supper young man.” She got up and we left as did hordes of others. A couple of men in raincoats stayed.
Janine guided me across the road to a swank restaurant and we were soon tucking into pate de fois gras and a bottle of Moet. She had shrugged her cape off her shoulders to lay over the back of the seat revealing a dove grey dress that positively bulged in front. The Moet started to cause her cheeks to take on a rosy hue as she relaxed. We chatted about the state of the theatre and went into the next course which was Lobster Thermidore. The lady didn’t stint. The Coffee Royales put her over the edge while I had a comfortable buzz.