Suedehead by Richard Allen

Author:Richard Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2015-06-09T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Like a king in residence in his castle Joe marched from room to room and luxuriated in the knowledge that his deflowering of Lois had not been without its compensations. She had been terrific. He understood now why some men insisted on having a virgin to bed when the experienced world of professional women was always available. But there was more to Lois than mere sex although that had been quite a thrilling lesson in the “unknown”.

Lois had society tastes which he could not begin to understand. She had helped him select the average flat for an up-and-coming young executive without knowing that his income was strictly derived from illicit activities. The amount his office paid would furnish a bedsitter in Balham, nothing more.

It had been four weeks since he last bedded Lois. After the initial ritual she had grown less attractive, less interesting. Her notions of security, marriage and children scared the hell out of him. Anyway, he never had any intentions of sticking with her. Her virginity had been the prime target. Once that went, so did his desire to count her amongst his “friends”.

He frowned at an Empire mirror with twin candlestick sconces. What friends did he have? Since going “inside” he had been alone. There had been Terry and, of course, Lois. But they had not been friends. They were people to be used. Mrs. Hale tried to befriend him, but unless she could offer something sexual she would remain a means to an unending source of quick loans.

He was friendless!

He was nature’s castigated soul!

Laughing as he strolled from master bedroom to lounge he again marvelled at the compactness, the luxuriousness of this elite flat. Sixteen guineas per week for what should have cost twice as much. Lois had been invaluable. An associate of daddy’s had informed her of a place he wished to rent. Naturally, as a close social acquaintance he would let it go for less than market value! Naturally! Half-price yet!

God, what bleedin fools these upper-class people were! How the hell did they ever make the money they had when the old school tie governed their every move?

On the open market the flat would easily have fetched £40 per week inclusive. Joe knew. He had studied the ads in the Evening Standard. Places less than a street away went for sixty per week. Exclusive, too. And this one was tastefully and completely furnished.

Lois had demonstrated her “in” with snobland. No references. No guarantees. Just a simple lease and a fifty quid deposit against undue wear-and-tear on the furnishings. One week’s rent in advance and – hey, presto – he had arrive in style! What a place compared to his Plaistow home!

In every way he ruled supreme. Authentic antiques as against Co-op furnishings of the cheapest variety. Spacious rooms and wall-to-wall carpets when he had been used to cramped surroundings and threadbare rugs trying to cover ugly floorboards. A modem American-style kitchen with all the latest gimmicks. His mother still cooked on an ancient gas stove and used utensils so thin on the bottom they could almost be used as sieves.

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