Chapter Nine – Domestic
They settled down for their evening's entertainment. A perfectly ordinary couple. Side by side. A Zap-U-Like meal apiece. Occasionally one or the other would look down to make sure their fork connected properly with the food. A little domestic scene repeated countless times throughout the Galaxy.
"I'm sure I've seen her somewhere before," he said, jabbing at the screen with his knife. She's quite a stunner, he thought, but kept it to himself.
"Apparently, 'When Worlds Collide,'" she said, "though I haven't seen it. I'd never even heard of Fanny Starr before she showed up on this programme."
"No, I haven't seen it either, but she definitely looks familiar. The name's familiar too."
"You're imagining it. You probably fancy her, that's all. Maybe you've been dreaming about her," she laughed.
"Do me a favour, she's not even my type," he lied. "This is going to nag at me now until I remember. Where the hell was it? It wasn't that drama with that bloke, What's-His-Name, from that soap that was on a couple of years ago, that married that woman, was it?"
"Well that's narrowed it down a bit," she said. "Anyway, I'm trying to watch." She picked up the remote and turned the sound up a notch.
They saw Fanny approach Zaphod Beeblebrox and introduce herself. Her body language suggested extreme flirtatiousness of the no-two-ways-about-it variety. Zaphod's body language suggested acute embarrassment of the very self-conscious variety. He was clearly still suffering from the previous evening's exposure. The invisicams zoomed in to capture every expression, and the directional mikes strained to hear every word.
"Oh, hi," they heard Fanny say, as she brushed her complicated girly hair from her face.
Zaphod affected a nonchalant stance and casually waved an arm by way of a greeting. A little too casually, and with nowhere near enough nonchalance to be convincing.
"Wasn't it scary last night?" she said. "I thought you were very brave to stay on the ground. I shot straight up the nearest tree. You and Splat make a great team. The way you drew them away from the pack to give the others a chance. That was just brilliant," they heard her say, as she put her hand to her chest, whilst making a pretty little 'O' with her pretty little mouth.
Now she had his full attention. Zaphod's two heads scanned her closely. He looked unsure of himself, as if he suspected a trap. But she was very pretty. She was very pretty indeed.
Spiro's educated voiceover cut in. "What Zaphod Beeblebrox doesn't realise is that Fanny is no ordinary contestant. She is, in fact, this season's Spy in the Camp," he said in conspiratorial tones.
"Well," said Zaphod, "Splat was the real hero."
"You can say that again!" said Spiro.
"I mean, anyone could have done what I did."
"He's not wrong, you know," said Spiro, with a chuckle. "We're not used to this much honesty from an ex-President, and this ex-President in particular."
"Yeah, but if you hadn't kept them in the camp Splat wouldn't have got his chance," Fanny giggled, coquettishly. "You are funny. You should be proud of the part you played." When the invisicams were ready she gave Zaphod her best alluring smile, full of admiration, and emphasised by two drop-dead-gorgeous fuck-me-eyes. She reached a slender hand to Zaphod's face and stroked his bristled cheek. The other head looked put out.
Again we hear the voice of Spiro: "And now, dear viewer, it time to let you all into a little secret. Fanny isn't as innocent as she seems. She isn't the inexperienced teenager that she appears to be, but the most sought after porn star in the Galaxy, and, I think you'll agree, a very good actress as well."
A thick silence permeated the room. It obliterated the noise of the traffic in the street outside. It blotted out the sounds from the vidicube. It demanded attention, but was of such a quality that he dare not notice it. Neither party said a word. He did not speak because he was hoping to wake up. He wasn't asleep, but he hoped he was. He would awake from the dream – nightmare, rather – and he would get ready for work with a glad heart for once, knowing that it had hadn't really happened and that he was off the hook. Except that it wasn't a dream. The silence waved its arms in front of his face. It danced around him and ruffled his hair. It turned up the thermostat until he felt the heat prickling his skin. It got its dangly bits out and waved them in his face. He wanted to tell it to go away, but he was afraid that it wouldn't take any notice. The silence mocked him and it was only just warming up.
Inspiration leapt to his rescue. "Got it!" he shouted in a falsetto voice he never knew he had. "That coach trip to the Moon with the lads from work. Of course! There was a film on, though I wasn't really watching. Not properly. That's why I couldn't remember. I knew I'd get there in the end. It must've been that film, 'When Worlds Collide.' Told you I'd seen her before. Yeah, that's what it was called. I remember now."
She didn't say anything because she didn't need to. He was obviously lying. Anything she said would not add to his discomfort by one iota. She was only mildly annoyed by what she had heard, but he didn't know that and she wouldn't let on. Not yet, anyhow. He could watch as many dirty films as he wanted, just so long as he was too scared to admit it. The interrogation he was expecting could wait. There were shopping expeditions to organise. Trips to expensive restaurants that he thought were a complete waste of money. It was all a question of timing. He knew that she knew that he knew that she knew that he knew that she knew. This was all adding up to about two weeks worth of extra special attention, she calculated. Two weeks and then she'd cut him a bit of slack.
"And, of course," Spiro's voiceover continued, "there is no such film as 'When Worlds Collide.' Fanny Starr has only ever appeared in skinflicks, and not just any old skinflicks either. Fanny Starr has only ever appeared in the sort of film that you wouldn't want to tell your drinking buddies about down the local dive, yet alone your nearest and dearest. If I were you, I'd keep watching. I think we can expect some serious mattress mayhem in the days ahead, even if most of it ends up on the cutting room floor."
Make that four weeks.
The silence streaked around the room screaming, "look at me, look at me," before somersaulting over the vidicube.
He was caught in a trap of his own devising. Hoist by his own petard. Gripped, well and truly, by the short and curlies.
He just hoped that his wallet was up to it.