Chapter 2: The Unexpected Dinner Guest

I had never been to America before let alone New York and as the cab battled its way to my hotel, what I saw hardly inspired me. Although I was born and raised in the outskirts of West London, I was not a fan of cities. Overcrowded streets, polluted air and congested roads with people in too much of a hurry to give you the time of day did not appeal to me.

My mood had not improved by the time I returned to the hotel later that day. I had found my way to the university only to be told curtly by a young woman that there was no such person as Dr.C.Porter-Bowl. Does everyone in this city act so tough and rude? It was getting late and I didn’t fancy venturing out to find somewhere to eat, especially after hearing about the high rate of gun crime in the city. I decided to use the hotel restaurant and was pleasantly surprised to find the prices were half as much as ‘Rip Off Britain’.

“May I join you?” a warm elegant husky voice asked. I looked up in surprise to see the woman from first class. “Yes of course” I replied out of courtesy. I started to stand. “No, Please remain seated. I’m quite capable of seating myself” she said with a ghastly smile. It was like a wide red-rimmed letterbox inset with a row of pearly white teeth. “I saw you on the plane. Us Brits should stick together when in foreign lands” she joked. “Of course. I would be glad of the company” I replied although her fierce looking face made me think otherwise. It was quite large and rectangular with a deep blockish chin and slightly flabby jaw line. Slim dark eyebrows lined narrow piercing grey eyes that sat atop a prominent nose from which deep creases fan out lining her cheeks. Her face is covered with wrinkles and creases, most noticeably around her eyes and mouth. No attempt has been made to conceal these with makeup of which she wears a touch of mascara and lipstick.

The upper class woman smiled “I was returning to the 5 star a few blocks from here when I saw you” she said. “I remembered the nice smile you gave me at the airport and thought I could do with some friendly company for dinner. I hope you don’t mind. The name’s Clarissa by the way”. There was a twinge in my groin as I remembered the way she flexed her calves at me. In fact as we chatted over our starters, I found her to be very engaging, witty and intelligent. Our class differences forgotten, we really got along well and I was enjoying her company.

Whilst waiting for our main course she asked what brought me to New York. I explained that I had received an invitation from Dr. Porter-Bowl, an expert in Masonic studies, at the University to discuss a matter of mutual interest. “Masons, how fascinating!” she exclaimed. “Unfortunately the University have never heard of him. It seems I’ve been hoaxed” I told her bitterly. “Oh, what a shame” Clarissa said sympathetically.

“Speaking of Masons, have you ever been to the Hellfire caves at West Wycombe?” the well-weathered woman asked. “Many times” I replied. That got us discussing the caves and the rumoured dark deeds of the notorious Hellfire Club during the 1700s. Clarissa was soon enthusiastically telling me about its founder, Sir Francis Dashwood and how his heart was put in an urn in the mausoleum on the hill above until it went missing. Then she paused, looked at me and smiled. I found myself smiling back. Despite her looks, she was very engaging. In fact, I could see that she was probably very handsome looking when she was younger. Her eyes seemed to lock onto me and I felt a tug of attraction.