Chapter 4

The next few days were quiet as far as my work went, so David and I spent all our time together, we went shopping and it was nice not worrying about the prices any more.

Our bank balance was looking a lot healthier too and our sex life improved no end, he liked to hear about the things I’d done with my clients.

On the day I was booked to meet the two Americans, Jane came round and we got ready together, David sat watching us and grinning, so we each allowed him to fasten our stockings to the suspender belts.

The guys met our taxi outside the hotel and smiled their appreciation as we alighted.

“Wow Paul,” said Brad, “These ladies sure are something else.”

Brad was tall and good looking, dressed in an Armani suit, he looked every inch the important business man.

Paul, his lawyer was about six feet four or five, black and with a completely shaven head, looking more like an all in wrestler than a lawyer.

“You must be Wendy.” He smiled showing perfect teeth and kissed my hand in welcome. “Would you like a drink?”

We strolled through to the bar where Brad led us to a booth and a waiter took our orders.

They were good hosts, polite, charming and very easy on the eye, Paul paid particular attention to me, asking me all about myself and seemed genuinely interested in my answers.

“So do you live in London?” He asked, and I nodded, “Yes.”

“Where do you like to go at night?”

“Well we often go out with Jane and her husband to a pub or a club, you know, just for a few drinks and a dance or two.”

“Will you take Brad and I to a pub?”

“Sure, any particular pub?”

“No, just a typical English pub, what do you call them over here?”

“A boozer.” I laughed.

“Yeah, take us to a boozer.”

The door man whistled us up a black cab and I instructed him to take us to the Blind Beggar in Whitechapel.

On the way there, we told them about the Kray twins and how they ruled London in the fifties and sixties and how they killed a man in the pub we were going to.

“Ronnie Kray just walked into the pub one night in 1966 and shot a man called George Cornell with a luger,” I said. “But that was the beginning of the end for them as they were jailed in 1969.”

“Sounds like Al Capone stuff.” Brad laughed as the cab pulled up outside the pub.

We walked in feeling right out of place in our evening wear, but we were greeted cordially by a young barman who asked us what he could get for us.

“Two beers please and two large brandies.” Said Brad.

“Wot kind of Britneys you want squire?”

“Eh?” Brad wasn’t just out of his depth, he was positively drowning.

“Beers,” I hissed in his ear, “Britney Spears, beers, get it?”

“Yeah, oh yeah, two of this one please.” And he pointed to the London Pride pump.

“Any particular fine and dandy?”

“Say what?” Brad looked round for help.

“Martell, please.” I smiled.

Paul was equally mystified, but he was laughing too as we collected our drinks and found a seat.

“What the hell kind of language was that?” he laughed and took a long pull of his pint.

“Cockney rhyming slang” I told him, “Once he pegged you as Americans, he put it on for your benefit.”

“Say, this beer’s not bad.” Brad said, “Another one?”

“Sure.” Said Paul, but Jane and I refused, we’d only had a couple of sips of ours.

Paul went with Brad to the bar and we heard loud laughter coming from them both, looking round we saw them in the middle of a group of people trying out their new found rhyming slang.

The next thing we saw was Paul being shown to the karaoke machine on the stage where he launched into an up beat version of New York, New York.

The whole pub stopped to watch, he was amazing, throughout the whole song, there was not a voice to be heard, only Pauls and he finished to a chorus of cheers and yells of, “more, more.”

We moved on from there to a club we knew in Wapping, we’d only been there before with our hubbies, so we wouldn’t be recognised. The guys went to get our drinks and Jane grabbed me for a dance.

“Let’s give them a hint of what’s to come.”

We began swaying sexily in time to the music and just as Brad and Paul turned away from the bar with our drinks, she kissed me slipping her tongue between my teeth.

“Hey ladies, wait for us.”

Brad and Paul were smiling at us and gesturing to the table where they’d set our drinks down.

“We were just getting friendly.” I smiled.

“Well hey, let’s finish our drinks and we can all get friendly back at our hotel,”