A dinner invitation but who is the mystery caller?

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad.
part 88.

On friday, I took in a cake and some cheese scones I'd baked that morning. My father devoured one eagerly, and I was gratified that they had been successful. I explained that I needed to go to Portsmouth for the weekend and sent Stella a text message asking Simon to sort out the repairs to my bike. In other words, I wanted them paid for. I phoned the shop and was told the price, I promised to return the borrowed bike on saturday.

After I got home, I received a text telling me they had been paid and my bike was ready for collection. Sadly, I wouldn't be able to drive down and get it that evening. I collected my stuff together, and set off to wade my way through the commuter traffic that clogs everything for hours on a friday night. When sat in a very slow moving queue on the motorway I did wonder if I'd have been better waiting for the traffic to clear but that meant driving in the dark and I did not like that if I could help it.

I'd had a driving licence for four years but didn't do much driving until recently. My experience of night driving was limited and my confidence was low. Cycling at night was okay, provided your bike was lit up like a Christmas tree, but even that was dangerous.

My mobile rang and I was able to take the call through my handsfree kit. It is one of those crazy things, to use a mobile in the hand while driving is an offence in the UK, to use a handsfree, is legal. I doubt it's much safer, but in answering it, I was at least legit.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"On the M27 why?"

"Can you make dinner tonight?"

"What time?"

"8.30 okay?"

"I think I could make it, where?"

"My house."

"I think I can find it."

"I'm having some friends to dinner, I need some glamour to brighten things up."

"So why are you inviting me?"

"Because I want you to meet some people. I want you to charm them and to dazzle them."

"Some more notice would have been helpful."

"Sadly, that was not possible. I will explain when I see you."

"How formal is this dinner?"

"Smart casual is fine."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good girl."

Shit! There I was looking forward to an easy night, change my bed and stuff and now I've got to rush and change into something tidy. Men! For them, it's easy, clean shirt and pair of casual trousers and they're away. I now have to wash my hair and dry it, sort out what I'm going to wear and dress, make up oh bugger! I'd left my makeup at Dad's house.

Oh shit, and double shit! It took me another hour to get to Portsmouth and another twenty minutes to get near home. I managed to find a late night pharmacy at Morrison's supermarket and grabbed some mascara, eyeliner and lipstick. I was pretty sure I had some perfume either with me or at home. I also bought a bottle of decent wine.

I flew up the stairs to my room and into the shower. In fifteen minutes I had washed my hair and dried myself, walking around in a towel while I sorted out what to wear.

It had to be a skirt or dress, and I found the latter to be suitable, a vee necked, capped sleeve dress which Stella had given me. It was in a silky material and I later realised it was also handpainted, poppies on a beige background. I tried it on and it fitted quite well. I'd put on a little weight since I'd stopped cycling and thankfully it had gone on my hips and bust. With my booster bra I had a definite cleavage. I smirked at myself, I was developing a reasonable figure and while I'd never be a supermodel, I wouldn't be easily recognisable as a man either.

My black strappy sandals and little bag, together with my shawl and that was the clothes sorted. I dried my hair and styled it. Stella's cut was so good, it pretty well fell into place. My makeup, wasn't as nice as the stuff I'd left behind, but it did the job and I cleaned my teeth before I popped on my lippy.

My mother's sapphires were in use once again and so was the silver bracelet and her engagement ring. A squirt of No.5 and I was as ready as I was going to be. It was twenty to eight, I grabbed the wine and set off for the dinner party.

I was there at dead on eight'oclock. "Ah Cathy, thank goodness you could make it. Let me look at you - my goodness you get lovelier every day. I didn't like to say it earlier, but I'd like you to act as hostess, if you don't mind, make a bit of fuss and flirt with the guests, just a little."

"What!" I felt myself get very hot. "I've only been doing this a couple of weeks!" I hissed.

"But you are so beautiful, no one will notice anything else."

"Professor Agnew, I am going to scream in a minute!" I said in exasperation.

He looked so calm and relaxed and just grabbed me in a hug and pecked me on the cheek, "I knew you'd understand, just be your charming self but smile at the Under-Secretary every now and again, he holds the purse strings."

"What!" I gasped, "What if he finds out about me?"

"What if he does, I only want you to smile at him, not sleep with him unless you want to of course." He gave me a wicked grin and I began to wish I'd stayed in Bristol.

He quickly showed me around his house, which was a large detached one. Five bedrooms, two with en-suite, three reception, huge kitchen and of course his den, which was as big as my room plus kitchen. It was a lovely house with Chinese or Persian rugs on polished block floors. His spaniel was shut out in the garden because he tended to jump all over guests and spread his hairs about. The caterers were busy in the kitchen and dining room.

"The guests will be here any minute, if you could help me get them into the lounge and settle them with a drink, it would help enormously."

"How many are we expecting?"

"The U-S, two from Bristol, one from the E.U. and someone from a commercial sponsor, the goverment have managed to con into putting some money into little furry things."

"Am I the only woman?" I asked blushing.

"Yep, token variety," he laughed, "only joking," he said as I scowled at him. "Well who else could I invite to compare with our own talent?"
I scowled again. "You'll get wrinkles, my dear. Seriously, as you helped to put together the proposal, it will be good to have you sit in on it all."

"But Professor, I wish you had let me know sooner, this is all so rushed."

"I only knew myself this morning, we had to switch this from Bristol because they have some sickness there."

I was just about to protest, when the doorbell rang. "Be an angel and get that will you, I want to check the caterers."

On shaky legs I went to the door and opened it. "Sir Alan, do come in." Thankfully I recognised the Under Secretary of State for the Environment.

"Thank you my dear, how nice to meet you. Agnew, you old fox, where did you manage to find such a lovely hostess for this nosh?"

"Alan, you old weasel, this is Cathy Watts, one of my post grad researchers and contributor to the proposal."

"My goodness, intellect in such a lovely wrapping, delighted to meet you." He took my hand and kissed it. I blushed all the way to my scalp. If ever he finds out, I am dead big time!

Next in were the two 'readers' from Bristol, a status which is sometimes termed Assistant professor in the States, then the rather handsome Antonio Banderas look-alike from the E.U. who was Spanish and then..I nearly fell over.

What the fuck was he doing here? "Hello Simon."

"Cathy, what a lovely surprise," came from his mouth but his eyes were in shock and I'm sure he went pale for a moment.

"You two know each other?" asked Sir Alan.

"Yes," I said with a smile that was as false as my booster bra.

"Come along in and have a drink, Cathy, if you'd do the honours," said the Professor. I nipped ahead of them and stood by the drinks table dispensing Martini and sherry and whatever else they wanted. I felt like a stiff brandy, but restricted myself to an extra dry Martini.

Simon kept out of the way for the pre dinner drink, and my attention was seized by Sir Alan, who had a reputation for being a bit of a flirt. "So what are you researching my dear?"

"Dormice."

"We have few of them in Westminster and even more in Whitehall."

"Really, I didn't realise there were any suitable habitats in central London."

"Oh for this type of dormouse, there is. They spend long hours sleeping, usually in their offices after big lunches, frequently paid for by the taxpayer or commercial interests."

"I see," I smiled, "I don't think they could be categorised as endangered."

"Oh but they are, my dear. When we push through the reforms in the White Paper (the goverment's proposed legislation), I'm hoping they will become extinct once and for all."

"I think I prefer my little furry ones."

"Well I'm sure they're in good hands my dear, with you looking out for them."

"I do my best. Excuse me Sir Alan," I went to help the Euroman with the film star looks. "Can I help, Mr Bartello?"

"You are too kind, Miss..?"

"Watts, Cathy Watts. Please call me Cathy."

"Yes, but of course, Cathy. Do we have time to see the garden?"

Duh! "I'll ask the professor," I rushed off and back. "He says we have five minutes and be careful of his dog."

"He is dangerous?"

"No, just boisterous."

My Spanish companion looked puzzled, "Boys teros?"

"No, boisterous, he'll jump all over you and get you dirty."

"Ah, boisterous, now I comprehend. What sort of dog is it?"

"A springer spaniel."

"Ah a gun dog?"

"Not in this household, the only thing the Professor shoots is pool."

"Ah, the American billiards?"

"Yes." I led him to the garden and managed to keep the dog off him by throwing a ball for it. He examined umpteen flowers and shrubs and picked off several cuttings for himself.

"I am a keen gardener, and look for new plants all the time."

"Would you like to put them in water until you go?"

"No, I am well equipped." He produced a plastic bag from his suit pocket and after dropping in his cuttings, sealed it.

"I think we'd better go back inside Mr Bartello."

"But of course."

The meal was delicious, melon starter, with Duck l'orange, and Pavlova to finish. There was also a cheese board and port, then coffee.

Once the dishes were cleared away, the talk was pure business and Sir Alan introduced Simon as the representative of his bank and how they were prepared to contribute half a million pounds over three years. They wanted publicity in return, with the emphasis on how they were helping the environment.

Simon's mini presentation was actually very good although I was aware the bank wasn't always so green in it's policy. In fact, they had been involved as a backer in some oil disaster in Alaska two years before. So this was blood money, or perhaps oil money would be more accurate.

The bank wanted something to show for it's investment and much to my horror, Sir Alan proposed a set of posters and leaflets with a picture of me on it and one of a dormouse.

"That's brilliant Alan," commented Prof Agnew, "Cathy is the most photogenic member of the team and so are her little furry dormice. Well young man, would your bank be happy with that, plus a description of the work we are doing and planning?"

Simon blushed. How could he be seen to be going out with someone from a project his bank was funding? If they found out, we'd both be in trouble. "I'll speak to my superiors and get back to you as soon as we can, but it sounds very good."

My heart sank. My little romance was over. I looked at Simon and saw the sadness in his eyes. I had always dreamt of being a beautiful woman, now people were saying I was. I didn't necessarily agree, and suddenly it was proving a hindrance rather than a help.Oh shit!