strange gift to make quite a killing on the stock market.
‘I don’t know quite how he could make such a stupid mistake,’ Serena had said. ‘I only know he’s not the first famous bastard I’ve done business with. They
all seem to think that if you’re on the game you’re automatically deaf, dumb and blind too. But this is the first one I’ve been really interested in nailing. Call it personal,
because he’s a racist jerk, or call it business because he’s the biggest name I’ve had yet, and I know you’ll pay through the nose for him. Anyway, you can take that to the
bank.’ With that she had tossed the tape on to Susan’s desk. ‘You know all that stuff he peddles about the Second Coming? I’ve got it all down here. And the third, and the
fourth . . .’
Now that unmistakable Black Country-on-Seine voice groaned from O’Brien’s tape machine . . .‘
Sacré bleu
bah gum . . .’ The Australian laughed and clicked
it off.
‘Good work, Sue. I think I can do you a front page for this little beaut. “As Told To” suit you?’
‘Suits me fine.’ Susan Street smiled.
FOUR
‘If Bangkok is a bar girl and Paris is an expensive mistress, then Rio is an orgiast,’ Tobias Pope proclaimed from his mobile Olympus as it moved through the
clouds, as fluffy and yielding as a Fifties pin-up blonde, above the Atlantic Ocean.
By his side Susan Street slept, sulked and stared blankly at the pages of her Tama Janowitz novel. ‘Really?’ she said, in a voice which dripped boredom.
‘But certainly. Brazil is sometimes called the Thailand of Lat Am, but personally I’ve always found Thai women essentially joyless and resentful types behind that grateful facade. If
it wasn’t for the hard cash, they wouldn’t touch you with a six-foot dildo. The
carioca
girls, on the other hand . . . superb beasts. Glossy, healthy brutes. Pre-AIDS, that is.
They’re still as loose as ever, though. They’d do it for fun, if it came to that. Which, praise God and the dollar, it never will.’
Susan sighed and put her book away into her Etienne Augier briefcase. Every time she tried to read, Pope pinched an excruciatingly tiny and tender amount of flesh at the top of her inner thigh
which her mini-skirted grey wool Alalïa suit left achingly vulnerable. Her Bruce Oldfield tights were already laddered due to numerous digital rebukes. In the interest of her wardrobe, it
might be wise to converse with him.
‘If Rio is an orgiast, and Paris is a mistress, then what’s London?’ she asked patiently.
He turned and laughed into her face. He’d been hoping for this one, she could tell. ‘A whore. Down on its luck. Two-bit. A two-bit whore whose speciality is getting down on its knees
and sucking the dick of any rich American who crosses its path. That’s what your countrywomen are famous for, isn’t it? What did they say about English girls during the war? One
Yank—’
‘—and they’re off,’ Susan finished wearily. It was a revelation hearing Tobias Pope’s witticisms and wisdoms. Somehow she hadn’t excepted the head of one the
biggest communications empires in the world to have a marginally less sophisticated sense of humour than a stand-up comic in a North Country working-men’s club.
He chuckled happily at his joke. ‘Yes, yes. I’ve always thought it strange, you know, that only Italy should be shaped like a part of the human physiognomy. If there was any natural
justice in the world, the British land mass would be a Y-shaped pair of open legs and the tip of the United States would be thrusting into it. It would be appropriate, wouldn’t it?
Economically, militarily and sexually.’
‘Isn’t it a coincidence,’ Susan said sarcastically, ‘that the women of countries suddenly become so wildly attracted to rich Americans when their countries are being
screwed in every other way by the United States. This animal magnetism couldn’t have anything to do with a certain little thing called
‘I don’t know quite how he could make such a stupid mistake,’ Serena had said. ‘I only know he’s not the first famous bastard I’ve done business with. They
all seem to think that if you’re on the game you’re automatically deaf, dumb and blind too. But this is the first one I’ve been really interested in nailing. Call it personal,
because he’s a racist jerk, or call it business because he’s the biggest name I’ve had yet, and I know you’ll pay through the nose for him. Anyway, you can take that to the
bank.’ With that she had tossed the tape on to Susan’s desk. ‘You know all that stuff he peddles about the Second Coming? I’ve got it all down here. And the third, and the
fourth . . .’
Now that unmistakable Black Country-on-Seine voice groaned from O’Brien’s tape machine . . .‘
Sacré bleu
bah gum . . .’ The Australian laughed and clicked
it off.
‘Good work, Sue. I think I can do you a front page for this little beaut. “As Told To” suit you?’
‘Suits me fine.’ Susan Street smiled.
FOUR
‘If Bangkok is a bar girl and Paris is an expensive mistress, then Rio is an orgiast,’ Tobias Pope proclaimed from his mobile Olympus as it moved through the
clouds, as fluffy and yielding as a Fifties pin-up blonde, above the Atlantic Ocean.
By his side Susan Street slept, sulked and stared blankly at the pages of her Tama Janowitz novel. ‘Really?’ she said, in a voice which dripped boredom.
‘But certainly. Brazil is sometimes called the Thailand of Lat Am, but personally I’ve always found Thai women essentially joyless and resentful types behind that grateful facade. If
it wasn’t for the hard cash, they wouldn’t touch you with a six-foot dildo. The
carioca
girls, on the other hand . . . superb beasts. Glossy, healthy brutes. Pre-AIDS, that is.
They’re still as loose as ever, though. They’d do it for fun, if it came to that. Which, praise God and the dollar, it never will.’
Susan sighed and put her book away into her Etienne Augier briefcase. Every time she tried to read, Pope pinched an excruciatingly tiny and tender amount of flesh at the top of her inner thigh
which her mini-skirted grey wool Alalïa suit left achingly vulnerable. Her Bruce Oldfield tights were already laddered due to numerous digital rebukes. In the interest of her wardrobe, it
might be wise to converse with him.
‘If Rio is an orgiast, and Paris is a mistress, then what’s London?’ she asked patiently.
He turned and laughed into her face. He’d been hoping for this one, she could tell. ‘A whore. Down on its luck. Two-bit. A two-bit whore whose speciality is getting down on its knees
and sucking the dick of any rich American who crosses its path. That’s what your countrywomen are famous for, isn’t it? What did they say about English girls during the war? One
Yank—’
‘—and they’re off,’ Susan finished wearily. It was a revelation hearing Tobias Pope’s witticisms and wisdoms. Somehow she hadn’t excepted the head of one the
biggest communications empires in the world to have a marginally less sophisticated sense of humour than a stand-up comic in a North Country working-men’s club.
He chuckled happily at his joke. ‘Yes, yes. I’ve always thought it strange, you know, that only Italy should be shaped like a part of the human physiognomy. If there was any natural
justice in the world, the British land mass would be a Y-shaped pair of open legs and the tip of the United States would be thrusting into it. It would be appropriate, wouldn’t it?
Economically, militarily and sexually.’
‘Isn’t it a coincidence,’ Susan said sarcastically, ‘that the women of countries suddenly become so wildly attracted to rich Americans when their countries are being
screwed in every other way by the United States. This animal magnetism couldn’t have anything to do with a certain little thing called
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