Fifth part of what will now be a six-part story. I have tried to make it stand alone, but reading the earlier stories may help. It is set in the UK Midlands in 1981 so no mobile phones or social media. Attitudes are different and sometimes very contradictory. Some cultural references are also of the era, especially as regards tattoos. This is more of a reluctance story rather than non-consent.
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The woman who Alan Hampton knew as Eve Harrington came down to breakfast with him. She had thought about making an early exit, but as soon as she moved Alan had woken up. He had certainly tried to make up for lost time on the bonking front last night and first thing this morning. He had gone back to his room to shower when she had gone into her bathroom. To her amusement he had left her fifty pounds in notes on the bed side table with a note saying that he would have bought her a gift if it had not been Sunday and that she was out her rail fare because of her ex-fiancée. It suited her that he accepted that last night had been a one off.
They had both ordered the Full English Breakfast and she had decided that it was best to make him think that last night was best seen as a one off by eating her sausages suggestively. A good time girl with a heart of gold and sexually exciting, but not up to his level intellectually. A fond and perhaps treasured memory, but ultimately he would feel relieved that she had not stuck around.
To her surprise, Rupert had breezed into the hotel and had said, "Good to see you both. I've got a breakfast meeting here. Anyway, have a pleasant journey today despite the best efforts of British Rail. Hope you've feeling tip top this morning."
His presence meant that she would need to leave with Alan for the station. She amused herself by saying, "I'm feeling absolutely shagged this morning, Rupert."
Alan choked on his tea, but Rupert, the bastard, took it his stride. "You look radiant for it, my dear Jill. Alan, however, looks totally buggered, pardon my French."
"I'm sure you are an expert, Rupert."
The man smiled at her. "I've heard the chimes at three AM, Jill."
If Alan hadn't been around she would have been tempted to ratchet up the innuendos still further but decided against it. She contented herself with, "You are far too trim to play Falstaff. Perhaps you have a portrait in your attic."
Shit, that was a mistake. Eve was meant to be a good-natured moderately intelligent woman with a chequered past, not someone who recognised where a Shakespeare reference came from and knew the works of Oscar Wilde.
She put a warning hand on Alan's knee to stop him responding to the provocation. Fortunately, he was too irritated with Rupert to have listened properly to her last remark.
Rupert laughed, "Touché, Jill. The best of luck to you Alan in finding a seat to stand at in at the next election. I and the rest of the committee will be commending you to Central Office. TTFN."
He responded to Alan's look of puzzlement, "Ta, ta, for now. Quote from an old radio show, old chap." He shook hands with Alan and kissed her on the cheek while copping a feel of her arse. His embarrassment from last night seemed to have vanished. The nature of Rupert was clearly irrepressible.
Forty-five minutes later she waved goodbye to Alan as his train to Birmingham left. She then smiled to herself. Despite the unforeseen complications it had been a satisfying and entertaining weekend. She would catch a later train back to Birmingham.
She went into the ladies where she undid the ponytail and shook her hair out. She also changed her clothes, so she was now wearing a black pleated mini skirt, stockings, and a black V-necked jumper. She also had chosen a bullet bra so that her breasts stuck out. No one had seen her like this is in Coketown and it was very different to her normal wear. She even used a different handbag. She put her suitcase in a left luggage locker and walked back into town.
She sensed someone following her and panicked in case it was Rupert. She stopped in front of a department store with a full-length mirror as part of the window display. She bent over pretending to tie a shoelace and could see in a reflection a young man staring at her bum with ill-disguised lust and puzzlement. Ah, just someone wanting to give her a good seeing too. No need for alarm. She was tempted to ask him for directions to the hotel but decided that she had already popped one cherry today.
She was now back near the hotel she had stayed in last night but instead the Castle Hotel she turned into the Falcon Hotel. She strode past the reception desk and up to the stairs getting her key out of her purse. In a mirror at the top of the stairs she could see that the young man had followed her and was staring after her.
She had booked the room when she had come up yesterday. It was a cheaper hotel than the Castle and she had not been asked for identification after she paid cash in advance for the room. She was told she could check in immediately and it turned out that it allowed her an excellent view of the Castle Hotel entrance.
She had signed in as Eve Harrington. The choice of name had been a joke with herself. She liked watching old black and white films on Saturday afternoons on BBC2 and particularly liked a film from 1940 starring Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda called The Lady Eve. In the second half of the film Stanwyck conned Fonda into marrying her despite looking exactly the same as the woman he had dumped when he had found out she was a con artist. As she was pretending to be a woman who just happened to look almost exactly like Alan's fiancée it had seemed appropriate.
She used the baby oil to get rid of the temporary tattoo and changed her make-up. An important part of the plan was that Alan must assume that she was a woman around his fiancée's age rather than someone a few years younger and the make-up and tattoo were a crucial part of the illusion. Luckily, she had learnt at the hotel in Saundersfoot last summer how to avoid the excesses which suggested a teenager trying to look older as opposed to a woman stressing her strong points. Alan had enjoyed having sex with a woman of around his own age while pretending to have sex with a student. He may have found it too close to the knuckle to have sex with a nineteen-year-old pretending to be his student. The tattoo had also been designed to reduce the risk that he would fall in love with her. After all tattoos were only worn by men in military, merchant navy, and women of doubtful virtue. While the temporary tattoo had been tasteful, it still gave him the message that she was not a woman to take home to meet the parents.
She went downstairs and checked out. The girl behind reception was called Wendy and asked if she had enjoyed her stay. It had started raining outside and Wendy suggested that she wait in the bar for it to stop.
She went into the bar of the hotel and sat down at the end of a booth with leather seats and thought about her relationship with Bill. She decided that she was now somewhere between mistress and paid companion. As she was being paid handsomely she was definitely beyond being a simple good time girl. To her relief (and she suspected his) he was not falling in love with her but loved being with her.
Bill was away this weekend visiting his daughter and her family. They had met on Thursday night instead and had plotted the next step in the sluttification of Joanna. They had also started planning for the meeting with the history professor in two weeks' time.
She wondered how long it would be until someone offered to buy her a drink. Bill liked her to tell him stories about men trying to get off with her and it never hurt to add ammunition. Even if nothing happened, extra background detail could be added to her stories to increase the extent to they could excite Bill to a second bout of sex on their normal Saturday nights. He loved hearing about her adventures, and it helped him let go of his few remaining inhibitions. The second bout of the evening was always more satisfying for both of them.
The answer was thirty seconds. A voice said, "Can I buy you a drink, Miss." She looked up to see a young man who was over six foot tall and well- built. More to the point she saw the young man who had followed her from the station.
She smiled and said, "A G&T please." She stretched her arms above her head and pushed her breasts forward. The young man's eyes watched with obvious lust.
He went to the bar and ordered a pint for himself and what looked like a double G&T for her.
He came back with the drink and handed it to her. He said, "Have we met before?"
"Not as far as I am aware. My name's Eve."
"I'm Ronald."
"It's good to meet you Ronald." She wondered how far to encourage him. Anyway, the next train was due in an hour and a half. She decided to adopt the personality she had adopted with the Yank on the way back from Oxford a few months ago. A posh totty student who modelled and danced in bars and possibly up for a little bit of slap and tickle. If he was lucky she might even give him a Balsall Heath handshake in the toilets. That would amuse Bill.
She moved up the booth and patted the seat next to her. He sat down next to her.
