I’m asked by a young couple, members of the current smart set, to drop by their flat for drinks. It seems a little odd – I know and like them, but we don’t really socialize. I’m fairly certain they’re not going to assassinate me, but other than that I have no idea what they want, and, out of curiosity, accept.
They’re extremely pleasant and ply me with red wine and caviar until we’re all quite merry indeed. Finally the woman says I have a surprise for you. There’s someone upstairs who would very much like to see you. They look up expectantly, and down the spiral staircase, making a dramatic entrance as usual, comes Heather.
Heather! We kiss on both cheeks and drink a toast as now the vodka comes out. She’s older obviously, but still dresses like a young woman in tight clothes and a short skirt. There are uncomfortable bulges here and there to betray her, which are on one hand a little sad but on the other I find these small outbreaks of flesh somehow very erotic. My hosts, great friends of Heather’s, discretely excuse themselves and immediately I realize that I’ve been set up.
After a little reminiscing she begins her pitch – she’d like me to use my influence at court to make sure that her husband gets a contract to supply food to the army. He’s a blockhead, but no more so than his competitors, and marginally more honest than most. Usually when I’m petitioned I take whatever’s offered and then forget about the whole thing, but in this case I decide to actually try and help her and tell her candidly that I am fairly sure I can make it happen. I even consider being totally magnanimous and sparing her the necessity of sacrificing her honor, but she offers herself so willingly and, let’s face it, there are few of us that have much honor left anyway.
Once I touch her, of course, there’s no question…