Chapter XL An Amicable Summit

 

 

That reminded me that I was not yet aware of the fate of Lord Smallbridge and wondered what the impact of this turn of events would be on the life of Valentina. That girl had given me so much pleasure in the past, for whatever reason, that I was determined to have one last attempt to make contact. I checked through my business cards and came across the card she gave me more than a year ago in “Pinks”.  

Using my newly acquired mobile phone, I rang the telephone number. After a few rings there was a long sharp tone followed by an invitation to leave a message. I obliged.

Half an hour later my mobile rang. It was Valentina. She appeared to be whispering. “Peter, you have a new phone? How are you?”

“Fine now, Lady Smallbridge. I have finally recovered from the excitement of the last two weeks. And you? Do you still hate me?”

“Why should I hate you? You did nothing against me. You were always nice to me. You only even beat me when I deserved it. Timothy was very shocked by what he called your betrayal, but when we found out how Sheremovsky attacked you and that man Casey tortured you we knew that you owed us no favours. You did your career no harm at all either. Our predictions were right.”

“What predictions?”

“Don’t you remember anything, naughty boy? The three witches? Ludmila, Olga and me. What did we predict? Remember?”

“Yes, I do remember.” I laughed. “You predicted I would chair the Planning Committee.”

“Well that happened the following day!”

“Yes, I know, that was amazing. But that was only coincidence.”

 “And what else did we promise you?”

 “ I think that another prediction of yours was that I would become an MP.”

“Yes, we predicted that you could become a Member of Parliament. Well, I have been reading the papers and Bunty has confirmed it to us as well. You are favourite to win your party’s nomination for MP. The opposition is not very important now. You will win the election and you will be an MP! You’ll see. And you remember our third prophecy? Leader of the Council”

“I’m trying to remember the rest of the conversation. I know. Wasn’t it three in a bed?”

She laughed. “No, you silly boy. We were three in a bed in the House of Shame already. But if I remember rightly you wanted to have four in a bed. You are so greedy,” she laughed again. “So? Has it happened yet?”

“No. And I doubt if it will. Still” I boasted, “I have two women visitors tonight. Who knows how things will end up?”

“You see. I bet you anything it will be three in a bed and then one will bring a boyfriend,” she cried triumphantly.

“Did you know that Tim was thinking of inviting you to be his business partner over a special consultancy venture on, what you call it, oh yes, local government? You owe him and you could be very good at that.”

“Valentina. I am no saint. But compared to Timothy I am an angel singing in a boy’s choir. And Val, please understand. I owed Tim and Nafta Ural nothing. Not even that boat cruise for my Mother that you engineered, you little minx. I paid for that myself. I went to Colorbis Travel and paid that money myself.”

“You paid who? That rat Kolovetsky?”

My silence must have said it all.

“Why pay when it was already paid for?” I tried to respond about the need for integrity and honesty, but she cut me short. “So you are much more naïve than I thought.” She sounded genuinely angry. “What an idiot you are! An idiot! Of course, Kolovetsky never told us. My God, Tim will laugh when I tell him. Funny thing is that he always had a soft spot for you. You know that he ordered that tape of our session at Pinks to be destroyed. Did you know that? You see he actually liked you.”

“Yes like one rogue likes and admires another rogue. We’re as thick as thieves.” I broached a different subject. “Have you heard from Ludmila?”

“Yes, but only for about a minute or two on the phone. All I know is that she is still in England even though the other girls have been deported. It’s a pity we could not prophecy something nice for ourselves. Things have not turned out well for us. (Excuse me, I thought, who are you kidding, Lady Smallbridge?). Anyway Ludmila told me only not to worry about her. She said she had been beastly to you. These Irish bastards arrived at Amanda’s house in the country and practically kidnapped Ludu. She said that she was basically trying to frighten you into cooperating so that this horrible Casey person did not really torture you. You know he was a real monster. He tortured and killed people in Ireland. He worked directly with Sheremovsky. Tim had nothing to do with that side. You know she cried to me when she described your last meeting. She liked you so much. She hopes you can forgive her.”

“I already have.”

“Peter, you are such a sweetie sometimes. I will tell Ludmila that. It will make her feel less guilty. I am not quite sure what she is doing at present though. She hinted that she has been offered a job. Perhaps because you did not testify against her.”

“Anyway, Val, the reason for my call is that I wanted to warn you. You know who Special Branch are?”

“That is your British FGB, yes?”

 “Sort of. Anyway they want to send Tim to jail as an example to others from his social class. I do NOT think it would be a good idea for him to set up that local government consultancy in England now. They are closing in on him here.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know because they want me to testify against him. Can’t he leave the country or something? Somewhere from where they cannot extradite him. Like Brazil or maybe Taiwan or the Philippines or North Cyprus. Please warn him.”

“Thank you for warning us. I will tell Timothy straight away. My instinct tells me you are right, but, silly man, he thinks he is above the law. He will be very grateful to you for your warning. I will make sure that he is. He is very loyal to those who are loyal to him.”

“I did not say this for his thanks, or out of loyalty to him.”

“Why then?”

“Because of you, Valentina.”

“Because of me?”

I paused and swallowed hard. For once I wanted to say what I really felt. To a cynic like me this does not come easy. “Yes, Valentina Naryshkin, because in my own funny way I sort of …. loved you.”

There was an embarrassed silence at the other end.

“Valentina?” I asked, wondering if she had misheard me or put the phone down. Perhaps she was laughing her head off. I suddenly felt very stupid. Do I always have to be such a loser when it comes to women?

“Yes, Petya Tomasovich.” I thought I detected the sound of a sob. “I heard you.” And then after a pregnant pause…” I was always fond of you too. You know how to make a girl feel good”

My heart missed a beat.

The line went dead. For a few seconds the whole world seemed to have stopped dead.

 

I was still being pestered by telephone calls from newspapers asking for interviews. A Channel 4 journalist wanted to do a background programme on my family. I explained that my mother was the only family and she was returning to Southampton the next day from her cruise. The persistent journalist took down the cruise details and rung off.

Melanie arrived just before 6 o’clock. We had ordered a Chinese takeaway for the three of us and more red wine. Melanie had come in, somewhat tensed up, but determined to make a go of it and relax. We laid out the food and tucked in with relish.

We finished with some of my mother’s mint tea. We sat there relatively relaxed sucking the rice out from between our teeth. Aware of Melanie’s tension, I stood up behind her and massaged her shoulder blades and the back of her neck.

“God, this is good,” cooed Melanie. “If it weren’t for your politics I should be here more often. Don’t you want to be one of us, Peter? God knows you’re cynical enough.”

“Thanks! But no, thanks.”

“Well it’s true. Now Meena, you are still a bit too young and idealistic, but Peter is perfect. He believes in nothing at all.”

“Melanie, you are such a bitch,” laughed Meena. “I can’t tell if you are being nice about me or just dissing me. Either way, be careful. You know Peter has his secret tastes.”

“Oh, Meena, threats now? I may need to stop being nice to you.”

“Shut your face, Melanie, and keep still.” I said to her sternly. I was now massaging her scalp. She said absolutely nothing but bowed her head forward in submission. After a few minutes I stopped and slowly lifted her head so that she could see herself in the mirror. Her face was uncharacteristically relaxed now but with a puzzled sheepish look. Her hair was tussled and looked totally wild as if she had just had it blowing in a hurricane wind. She continued staring at herself. “You know” she said unexpectedly, “I look like I’ve just had one super great fuck.” Now that was a complement! Meena laughed.

We discussed our local politics over a glass of Drambuie and ice. Between the two parties the Council was likely to face a total of seven resignations and seven by-elections. “A whole crowd of council by-elections will lead to a considerable cynical backlash against both of our parties,” I pointed out. “The only beneficiaries will be Calamity Khan’s lot, perhaps the Greens and the British National Party. Not really what either of us wants, is it?”

We sat down opposite each other in the sitting room and the tough negotiations began. First I wanted to restore Emil to his rightful place on the council. My group had agreed to ignore his resignation letter but I did not want Melanie kicking up a fuss about this. So, I questioned why only two of her Councillors should resign. I suggested that Patricia Wallace had made a total ass of herself and should also resign. Melanie defended her. She may have behaved foolishly, she said, but there was no need for her to resign just for that. I said I was going to create a stink about it, just as she had about Emil Kapacek. This argy bargee had the desired effect. We agreed that I would not question Pat Wallace’s right to remain a Councillor, if her side did not question our setting aside Emil’s resignation letter. That was a big relief to me. Emil could now return from Prague and resume his duties as a Councillor.

At this point I cheekily suggested massaging Melanie’s back. To my surprise she readily agreed. Melanie and I made a move towards my bedroom so that she could lay face down on it and submit herself to my ministrations. Sensing which way the wind was blowing, Meena rushed into the bedroom first. She lay face down on the bed herself with the back of her dress partly unzipped. As Melanie came in, Meena called out to her from the bed.

“Me first. You’re neglecting me.”

“You tart,” Melanie admonished her. “Get off the bed, he’s doing me first.”

They play acted a scene of jealous rivalry which hotted up when Melanie landed a playful hard smack on Meena’s rump.

“What was that?” asked Meena provocatively without looking up. “I didn’t feel a thing.”  It looked to me as if she was slowly converting to the shadowland sex which Melanie and I practiced and which she had resisted until now. The Drambuie had obviously got to her as well.

So much so that a multiple massage with more intimacies than I care to recount drew our attention away from the local politics for a time. We did not however suspend our political summit conference for long. After all, this was Melanie Sheldrake I was negotiating with.

For instance she wanted all the departments to be investigated for corruption. I explained for the nth time why this would be impractical and would leave the whole Council paralysed for months and even years, while this inquiry was being conducted by an outside body and with completely unpredictable results. I was determined to have just an internal inquiry and only in the Planning Department. We then argued whether it should be an external or internal inquiry.

Melanie had learned from us that I was likely to be the new candidate in the Framden North by-election.  

“Of course he is.,” she said to Meena. “Your party would be fools not to nominate him. I don’t see Peter as your acting Council leader for long. It’s not his forte. All the more reason to suppose that I should give the parliamentary a miss as it would then be very difficult for us to win. And if Peter gives up the leadership? Is that your opportunity, Meena?”

“Got it in one,” laughed Meena.

“Well we can destroy ourselves in the Council Chamber and have a good old chin wag privately next day. Mind you, I’ll win this Council at the next election, of that you can be sure.”

“You just try, bitch,” Meena responded spiritedly.

Suddenly Melanie changed her tone and started to explain to Meena that if she should become leader of the group after I had become an MP, then she should keep a tight rein on male members in the group by treating them with disdain like a nanny, offering punishments and rewards.

“Well I know what kind of punishments you’d like to give,” said Meena. “But I just don’t understand the attraction of all this spanking. It’s so demeaning and so painful. I know some people fantasize about it, but the reality is quite different.”

“No,” Melanie explained. “it is the reality which is exhilarating, and the fantasy is just that, a frustrating unresolved fantasy. Ask yourself, why do so many people fantasize and read about spankings and canings and baring your fleshy cheeks as a presentation pack to your dominant loving partner? It is a natural animal urge you will find in other animals as well as humans. Watch gorillas submitting to their protective superiors, presenting their rear quarters. It is a way of saying, I trust you, be strong, take away from me my responsibility for myself and assume that responsibility on my behalf. Do whatever you want to do with me. If I have been stupid or done something wrong, correct me and then forgive me.”

“A kind of absolution then?”

“Yes,” I added, “but penance first, and then absolution. What proper penance can you have unless it humiliates you, and lets you suffer.”

“Yes, but pain is still pain, it’s not a pleasure to pursue.”

“Look at it this way, silly,” Melanie explained. “Like a painful exercise, or a swim in the cold sea, or acupuncture, or a hot sweaty sauna, or a tough Thai massage, the pain or suffering releases endorphins and they give you energy. In the long run smother the pain, as long as it is not too excessive. Being without your clothes is also a great release to the body. The beauty of intimacy. But the real secret of the world of spanks is that the area being beaten is so near the genitalia, both male or female. After the first shock it slowly stimulates your sexual appetite. It grows with each regular strike, delivered at regular intervals. When the session finishes the endorphins remain. They leave you with a sense of pain that's dulled by ecstasy. This may, or may not, excite your sexual appetite. Like a swim in icy water, it's followed by a feeling of an inner warm glow and excitement. It may delight some, but it is not for everybody.” 

“Let’s not spoil the party by just talking about it,” I suggested. “The evening is still young,”

I should have kepy my mouth shut. For the next hour or so the girls practised what Melanie had just preached, sometimes with each other, but mostly by ganging up on me, and making me their victim.

Half an hour after concluding our negotiations and related activities, the three of us lay snuggled next to each other on the bed watching a news programme. It was getting well into the evening and, as I expected, a little too late for Melanie to go home. She was too relaxed, too comfortable, wallowing with us in our own pleasure pool, to want to change her place of repose.

I suggested a romantic good-feeling kind of chick video. “Titanic” was too long and too sad; “Elephant Man” even sadder; “Have you Got Mail?” - boring and too flippant. Meena suggested “Sleepless in Seattle” so my sleepy hens watched “Sleepless” with eyes drooping and their attention wandering.

Meanwhile I slipped into the living room to make a quick phone call and when I was back Meg Ryan was looking at the beating red neon heart shining on the Empire State Building, Tom Hanks was hurtling towards Manhattan from JFK in a yellow taxi and Meena and Melanie were both fast asleep. 

I sidled my way in between them, laying one hand on Melanie’s breast and the other on Meena’s upturned thigh to steer myself in. I turned sideways so as not to rest my body on a part that was somewhat sore after their recent ministrations, pressed out a quiet subdued little fart of triumph and fell asleep, just dead to the world.