KISS ONE

Bodie stepped out of the nightclub, into the early morning air. Even at two o' clock in the morning, West London was lively. The discos were closing and their occupants moving on to the restaurants and bars that stayed open even later for the young, free and rich. Taxis sped through the streets; tourists took advantage of the warm summer night to take a leisurely stroll back to their hotels.

Bodie was feeling far from happy.

The plan was so simple. Bodie needed to be seen as having a taste for the high life, but without the funds to sustain it. He had to be seen as reliant on others for his money; a man with a gambling habit who was also weak and desperate.

George Cowley and Sir John Terringham worked on their plan. It all depended on Bodie's ability to convince the club owner of his credentials. He would play and lose, getting deeper and deeper in to debt. He'd insist he could settle his tab anytime, and as weak men do, boast about his connections and rich girlfriend.

Cowley and Terringham hoped that through contacts in the seedy gaming club, Bodie would dig his own grave, and eventually be forced into paying off his debts in ways other than financial. It was a gamble, but seemed a sure-fire way of gaining the interest and confidence of an over ambitious and deeply unpleasant Middle Eastern gentleman who had outstayed his welcome in the UK.

To create the right impression, Terringham offered to lend his Rolls Royce and had persuaded his daughter to act the part of Bodie's very smitten girlfriend. That had proved to be the problem, and the reason for Bodie's ill temper. Clare Terringham simply didn't like Bodie, and refused to play her part. The atmosphere in the car on the drive to the club had been positively arctic, and it was only with his arrival at the club, she had deigned to give him a quick, cold peck on the cheek.

Doyle had guffawed with laughter when he heard about the plan.

"You'll never pull it off mate. She's got more class in 'er little finger than you've got in your entire body!"

Cowley silenced his agent with a look. Thanking Sir John Terringham for his car and daughter, he went over the plan for the evening.

"You should have no trouble at all persuading the club that you're well connected. Just make sure they see you arrive, and that Miss Terringham is clearly deeply in love with you."

At the time, Bodie considered this a perfect assignment. He dressed carefully, selecting a beautifully cut dark grey suit, a Turnbull and Asser shirt and a pair of black shoes from Churchill's. He selected an expensive aftershave, and a gold wristwatch. He looked classy and well to do. Doyle surveyed his friend with undisguised glee.

"You look like a dog's dinner mate. Bloody James Bond! Glad it's you and not me who's pulled this one!"

Bodie gave him a faintly bored look.

"Raymond, clothes maketh the man. I will always be seen as a catch for any young debutante. You, on the other hand have made the wearing of tight jeans into an art form, sadly not recognised at the better London venues."

Their banter was interrupted by the arrival of the Rolls and Clare. However, right from the start, it was obvious Clare wasn't happy. Doyle followed his friend down to the car just in time to hear Clare say very pointedly

" . . . and I don't really go for older men!"

Doyle nearly died laughing!

Bodie had done his bit and the club knew he was out of his depth financially. He had begged Nero the manager, for a place at the next high stake game, promising he would have the ante to buy in. Now it remained for them to take the bait and contact him. Meanwhile he had to face a repeat journey home with the unfriendly woman!

The Rolls glided to a stop next to him and the chauffeur leapt out to hold the door open for him. Bodie made sure the club doorman could see him before he made a show of climbing into the car. The door was closed behind him, and he settled into the seat.

"Hi," said an unfamiliar voice. "I understand my little sister was a complete pain earlier. Hopefully I can remedy that now."

Before Bodie had a chance to react, a lithe figure swung a long tanned leg across his lap, and sat astride him. He found himself staring into a pair of deep brown eyes, ringed by huge sooty lashes. The young woman grinned mischievously at him and leaned back. Bodie took in the long dark hair, spread across creamy shoulders, high cheekbones, and a generous inviting mouth. His gaze dropped to the young woman's décolletage and the gentle swell of her breasts.

Gently she cupped Bodie's face between her long slender fingers. She traced a line around his jaw, dragging her fingertip across his mouth.

For the first time in years, Bodie was flustered! He wasn't quite sure what was happening, nor how he should react. Working on the assumption that his life wasn't in imminent danger as the young lady was too underdressed to be carrying any lethal weapons, he decided to see how the situation developed. Slowly he sank back into the expensive leather seats, and looked up at her.

"Who are you? Where's Clare?" His voice sounded unsteady. There was no reply to his questions.

The woman leant forward and began to kiss him slowly on the mouth. He held her lightly around her waist. Gently she licked his top lip. She slipped her tongue inside his mouth and ran it along his teeth. Responding to her tender invasion, Bodie covered her mouth with his and drank her in. Together they slowly explored each other's mouths, lips and tongues. The kiss seemed never ending. The woman sucked hard on Bodie's lip, making it tingle. She moved down and nibbled his earlobe, sending waves of desire shooting through his body.

Moving lower, she began to nuzzle his neck, licking and nipping as she went. Bodie closed his eyes and concentrated on her mobile tongue. She slipped a cool hand inside his shirt, and lightly scratched his chest, all the while kissing his neck, his chin and his eyelids. She rubbed her face over the overnight beard on his chin, before resuming her assault on his bruised lips.

Bodie felt helpless. His senses were stretched to breaking point under the relentless, tender attack. His arms felt leaden, and his manhood was hardening noticeably.

The car stopped at some traffic lights, and Bodie risked opening his eyes. The brightness from the display lights in the shops almost blinded him. He noticed they were back in the West End, just off Bond Street. The car purred on for a short while before stopping outside a very exclusive nightclub. The young woman slid off his lap and smoothed her hair.

"I hope that made up for Clare's bad manners," she chuckled. "By the way, I'm Rosie, Clare's older sister."

She tapped on the privacy glass. The driver slid the window open.

"Yes miss?"

"Williams, can you pick me up about four? Oh, and take Mr Bodie home please, there's a love!"

She turned to a stunned Bodie.

"It's been a pleasure Mr Bodie. I'm sure our paths will cross again, especially if you call me sometime."

She produced a felt tip pen from her bag. Slowly she undid the buttons on Bodie's shirt, and wrote her number across his bare chest.

"There you are," she said signing her name with a flourish. She slipped out of the car and was immediately swallowed up in a crowd of people entering the club.

He stared after her, trying to understand what had just gone on. He checked his watch, surprised that it was only just after half past two. As the big car sped across London he rubbed a finger across his bruised top lip and went over the events in his mind. He began to do up the buttons on his shirt, smiling to himself as he planned the evening for his first date with Rosie Terringham.

Ain't no particular sign, I'm more compatible with,
I just want your extra time and your KISS

(Courtesy of Tom Jones 'Kiss' )