Whiff Of Money

Thinking about her, Girland came to the conclusion that he dug for her.

Rosnold had also been amusing. Girland always kept an open mind about people. If this man made money by shooting pornographic films, this was no affair of his, Girland told himself. What he did for a living didn't matter. This was Girland's philosophy. It was the people themselves that were important, not what they did.

While he was finishing his cigarette and thinking he would now sleep, the telephone bell at his side buzzed, startling him.

He picked up the receiver. 'Yes'

'It's me.'

He recognised Gillian's husky voice and immediately he became alert.

'Hello ... what do you want?'

'I'm lonely.'

'Funny thing ... I seem to be lonely too.'

'Shall we be lonely together?'

'Then we wouldn't be lonely, would we? Two people together can't be lonely, can they?'

'Some can.'

There was a long pause while Girland stared up at the ceiling, trying to make up his mind if this was a good or a bad move.

I am in Room 462. It's at the end of your corridor,' Gilly told him.

'Do you like it at the end of the corridor?'

Gilly giggled.

'This is an invitation, stupid, not a geography lesson.'

Girland decided this invitation was unwise. Gilly was Rosnold's property. He didn't believe in poaching.

'It's too far,' he said firmly. 'Go to sleep,' and he replaced the receiver.

He stubbed out his cigarette and relaxed back in bed. He didn't have to wait long. The door eased open and Gilly slid into his room, closing the door softly after her.

She had on a white robe to cover a shortie nightdress. Her slippers were pale-blue. She looked very attractive as she regarded him.

'Hello there,' Girland said, smiling at her. 'As lonely as all that?'

She came to the end of the bed and glared at him.

'You are a pig!' she exclaimed. 'When you had my invitation, you should have come to me!'

'I told you to go to sleep,' Girland reminded her. 'But since you don't want to sleep, and since I don't want to sleep, you'd better get in here before you catch cold.'

He flicked aside the blanket and sheet and shifted over to m<,ke room for her.

'If you imagine I intend to sleep with you now, you are making a great mistake. I came just to tell you that I think you're a pig!'

Girland flicked the blanket and sheet back into place.

'That has now been recorded ... I am a pig. Good night,' and he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off. The room was plunged into darkness.

'Put that light on!' Gilly said sharply. 'How can I find my way out?'

'Fall over the furniture. I want to go to sleep,' Girland said out of the darkness. 'Good night... I'll see you in the morning.'

She groped her way around the bed as Girland, grinning in the darkness, once more flicked back the blanket and sheet.

There was a pause, then he heard the rustle of her clothes as they dropped to the floor.

'I hate you,' Gilly said, 'but now I'm here, I will stay.'

'I thought you might. It's a drag to walk all that way down that long corridor.' Girland reached out, his hands sliding around her naked back, pulling her down on him.

He lay still with her resting on him. She began to unbutton his pyjama jacket. His hands moved down her back and clasped her firm buttocks. She gave a long ecstatic sigh and her mouth found his.

During his chequered career, Girland had known many women. The act of love to him was always a unique experience.

Sometimes he was disappointed, sometimes he was satisfied, but this experience with Gilly was something he hadn't experienced before.

Later, they rested side by side, both breathless. Girland couldn't remember a more exciting and exhausting episode.

The moonlight came through the chinks in the shutters, making a pattern on the carpet. The sound of fast-moving cars came and went. Faintly he could hear swing music from the cafe opposite.

Gilly touched his chest. She sighed.

'I knew you had to be good, but I didn't imagine you could be that good.'

' Sleep,' Girland said. 'No post mortems.'

She curled up against him, one long leg across his legs, her face close to his, her warm, scented breath fanning his neck.

They slept.

The sunlight coming through the shutters brought Girland awake. He screwed up his eyes and then opened them as he yawned. Gilly lay by his side, beautiful in her abandoned nakedness. She breathed gently, her shell-pink nipples bathed in a streak of sunlight.

Girland put his hand lightly on the apex of her thighs. She murmured something and turning to him, her eyes still closed, she slid her arms around him.

This drowsy passion was less violent than before but more gentle and more satisfying. Once she cried out, her body stiffening, but then she became relaxed again, her breath quick and irregular. Again they slept.

Later still, Girland woke, raised his head and looked at his strap watch. The time was twenty minutes after nine. He prodded Gilly gently.

'Time you went to your room,' he said. 'It's long after nine.'

'Who cares?' Gilly said drowsily, stretching her lovely body. 'Kiss me.'