Prime Time

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  I shook my head. ‘Oh no, I don’t think I could – I wouldn’t know what to say.’

  Cal leant forward. ‘You don’t have to say anything – they’ll be flocking round you. Just smile and answer their questions. I’ve found out about it – you only talk to each one for three minutes and then you fill in a little card with anyone you like. There’ll be loads of champagne and I’ll be right there with you.’

  He was looking into my eyes in a way I found very hard to resist. ‘I don’t know …’ I faltered.

  ‘You can try out one or two or them to get the hang of it and then we’ll find a couple of guys happy to be filmed chatting to you. One of the guys organising it is up for it anyway so he’ll pose for us if nobody else wants to be on TV, but in my experience ’ he grinned at me ‘ once they’ve got a few drinks inside them, we’ll have plenty of willing candidates.’

  He put his hand on mine. ‘Are you OK with that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said again, something inside me cringing at the thought of having to make small talk with a stranger on film. I was bound to say something inane.

  ‘See how you feel when you’ve changed. I think you’ll enjoy it – all those men after you. I think it could be empowering.’ He was still holding my hand. ‘But I wouldn’t want you to do anything you felt uncomfortable with. You’re in charge.’

  His eyes held mine for a long moment and I felt a shock of real desire that thrilled and alarmed me in equal measure. I saw him notice it too. His fingers tightened.

  He started to say something, then abruptly sat back and let go of my hand as Tanya stalked back in and flopped back down on the long leather seat opposite.

  ‘Are they here?’ Cal said.

  She scowled. ‘Yeah.’

  Cal was suddenly business-like. ‘So, Laura, if you go up and have a shower or whatever you want to do, and get your make-up on, we’ll wait here for the guys and then Tanya can come up and help you choose a dress. OK?’

  Tanya in my room was the last thing I wanted but I didn’t like to say so. I nodded dumbly and got up, brushing past Cal, shaken by the electricity that had just passed between us.

  I’d much rather you helped me get dressed, I thought as I shampooed my hair. Or undressed, even … I giggled. The wine on another empty stomach had definitely had its effect. The two shortbread biscuits that were on the tray with the tea and coffee making stuff had helped a bit, but I definitely needed some proper food if I was going to have much more to drink. Or I’d be anybody’s!

  I soaped my body slowly, thinking about Cal and the way he’d looked at me. I hadn’t imagined it.

  Nor was I imagining the warm, tingling sensation suffusing my body that had nothing to with the powerful jets of hot water hammering down on my back. A feeling I’d all but forgotten. There was no doubt about it. I was horny.

  I was just wondering where the nearest Ann Summers shop was, while picturing Cal, bare-chested, slowly running his hands down my body, when I was rudely interrupted by a series of loud bangs on the door.

  Hurriedly wrapping a towel around my head, I pulled on the white, fluffy robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and opened up, harbouring a hopeless fantasy that it might be Cal come to ravish me. Tanya stood there with an armful of clothes and a cross expression.

  She walked in without comment and dumped the garments on the bed. Then she opened the mini-bar, took out a Diet Coke and sat in the chair in the corner. There was a hiss as she pulled at the ring pull. ‘Gonna try some stuff on, then?’ she asked flatly.

  ‘Yes sure,’ I said, flustered. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

  I grabbed clean underwear from my case and went back in the bathroom to rub at my hair. When I came back out, with the robe wrapped round me again, Tanya had separated out the dresses. There were four of them: a silver glittery affair; two black ones, and a short red taffeta thing. I could see at once that the silver one was too small.

  ‘What size are these?’ I asked, thinking how embarrassing it would be if I couldn’t cram my lardy self into any of them.

  Tanya shrugged. ‘Dunno. Try them on.’

  I took the two black ones back into the bathroom. The shorter one was tight and shiny; even before I’d zipped it up, I was a black pudding. The other one was long and strappy with a built-in bra bit that gave amazing cleavage without being too revealing. It was soft and draped and flattering. I turned sideways – my stomach, always so ready to pop forth, looked pleasingly flat.

  I must keep this weight off, I thought. That half stone or so I’d shed made all the difference in the world. I came out to show Tanya, feeling pleased.

  ‘I really like this one,’ I said. I gave a little twirl. ‘Once I’ve got my make-up on and maybe if I clip my hair back a bit – ’ I held it away from my face.

  Tanya looked at me strangely. ‘Try the red one as well,’ she said. ‘Red would be a better colour.’

  I reluctantly took the black dress off and pulled the red one over my head. It was tighter and shorter. It also gave me a cleavage but one more reminiscent of Barbara Windsor in her heyday. And I definitely looked heavier.

  ‘There are shoes,’ said Tanya, rummaging in a bag and pulling out a pair of perilous-looking scarlet heels.

  ‘I don’t think …’ I began.

  ‘Just try them,’ said Tanya.

  I put them on and looked in the mirror. They did something for my calves, for sure, but seeing so much of my legs generally, after a decade of jeans and long, droopy skirts was disconcerting.

  ‘Yep, that’s good,’ said Tanya, a note of enthusiasm finally creeping into her voice. ‘You look much better in that.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ I asked, looking doubtfully at my middle. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit tight?’

  ‘No, it looks fine,’ said Tanya, already losing interest again. She looked at her watch. ‘We ought to be getting downstairs, so you’d better do your make-up. Put plenty on or you’ll look washed out.’

  ‘I don’t think short dresses suit me,’ I said anxiously. ‘I think I look better in the black one.’

  ‘You really didn’t – that one is exactly right.’

  I looked at her. She stared back, her face challenging. I hesitated. It was ridiculous to feel intimidated by her – she was young enough to be my daughter.

  ‘Shall we ask Cal?’ I said at last.

  ‘No,’ Tanya almost snapped. ‘Well, not now, we need to get started. Get made-up first and dry your hair. Come downstairs like that and we can see what Cal –’ she enunciated his name with a studied scorn ‘– thinks then.’

  I wondered why they so obviously didn’t get on. Professional rivalry presumably, though if she was jealous it was her own fault. Cal was evidently so committed to his job and getting the film just right and Tanya didn’t seem to give a toss.

  I took a deep breath and tried once more. ‘I really think I’d rather wear the black one,’ I said, but Tanya was already gathering the rest of the dresses up and heading for the door.

  ‘You look much better like that,’ she said firmly. ‘You’re supposed to be partying.’

  Partying! I did my make-up but looked neither glamorous or sultry – just rather raddled – and my hair was a disaster. I realised to my horror I’d forgotten to bring my straighteners or the right hair gel, so had to go for a messy just-out-of-bed look that didn’t quite come off. I was still tugging at it hopelessly when Tanya rang the room and told me to hurry up.

  I teetered down the corridor in my heels and looked at myself in the lift mirror with despair. I could hear my mother’s voice: mutton dressed as lamb.

  The lipstick looked garish in the harsh light and my skin blotchy. My hair, that was supposed to appear wild and shaggy in an edgy kind of way, just looked unbrushed. I determined to go down and tell Cal I wanted to get changed into the other dress and I needed more time to do my hair. Perhaps the hotel would have straighteners. At least Cal cared about how I felt – he wouldn’t railroad me like Tanya had do
ne!

  He was waiting in the foyer with Matt and Russ. ‘Hey, you look terrific!’ He came forward and kissed me, then stood back and surveyed me from head to toe. He sighed appreciatively. ‘Fabulous.’

  ‘Actually, I’m not really very happy in this dress,’ I told him. ‘There was another one – a black one – I felt much more comfortable in. It was more sophisticated, you know, this one feels a bit – well, a bit tarty.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ put in Russ, behind me. He and Matt guffawed.

  ‘No really,’ I said, rattled. ‘And I can’t walk in these shoes and my hair hasn’t gone right –’ I stopped as, over his shoulder, I saw Tanya give a sort of smirk. I swallowed. ‘I think I look terrible,’ I said, suddenly feeling tearful. I stopped again, afraid now I would make a fool of myself and cry.

  Cal put an arm round me and led me away from the others. ‘What’s really the matter?’ He looked at me, his brown eyes full of concern.

  ‘I just feel very fat in this dress,’ I said, biting my lip. ‘I’m sorry I’ve got really bad PMT and I’ve had an awful week. It’s been the anniversary of my father’s death and my friend Charlotte –’ My eyes filled with tears and I scrabbled in my handbag for a tissue, feeling a complete idiot.

  Cal touched my face gently with one finger and spoke in a low voice. ‘Honestly, babe, you look fantastic. Not fat at all – just really sexy. I’m really sorry you’ve had a bad time. As soon as we’ve done this bit, we’ll sit down and have a drink and you can tell me all about it. The thing is ’ he looked worried ‘ we need to get on and film this speed dating thing right now if we’re going to do it, and as I’ve sweet-talked the organisers and the hotel management into letting us, I feel we should. I said we’d be discreet – get in there and do it quickly and get out again, so it won’t take long.’ He glanced at his watch in the same way Tanya had done. ‘I’m really sorry but, –’ He looked at me appealingly. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

  I dabbed at my eyes and nodded.

  ‘Look, just do this,’ he said. ‘I’ll get it wrapped up as soon as I can and then you can go and get changed if you like for the next session, but I, for one, think you look wonderful.’

  He trailed a finger across the top of my arm, lowered his voice, and gave me a slow wink. ‘I almost wish I was doing a bit of dating myself …’

  Chapter Thirty-four

  I gazed at his back as he walked away to the others. He really was flirting with me now – not just being nice. But he was genuinely kind, too – he always went out of his way to make me feel better about myself.

  I went to the loo to repair my make-up, having one more go at my hair with the last squidge from an ancient tube of leave-in conditioner I found in the bottom of my handbag and managing to create a couple of spikes, and putting on lots more lipstick.

  I still looked a bit grim, I thought, but the lights in ladies’ loos were notorious for that – presumably they’d be turned down a lot lower in the speed-dating gathering to give the dodgy-looking a fighting chance. Cal had seemed to genuinely think I looked OK, so perhaps it was just me being hormonal.

  The speed-dating affair was held in a large room a bit like a 70s nightclub, with a small dance floor in the middle and a bar running down one side. It was all rather retro with plush red banquettes and black walls with mirrored pillars and a huge metallic disco ball slowly revolving from the ceiling.

  Clumps of men and women stood near the bar with glasses in their hands. I noticed a lot of the women had on short, cocktail-type dresses like mine. I also noticed they were a lot younger than me.

  ‘I feel a prune,’ I said to Cal, as Russ and Matt set up the camera and mikes.

  He grinned. ‘Have some champagne. I always find it cheers one up.’

  I took a glass from the tray proffered and looked around the room. There were stools in twos against the narrow bar that ran around the walls and more pairs of seats dotted about the high round tables surrounding the dance floor.

  A young guy in tight black trousers and white shirt handed me a black card like a menu, embossed with silver hearts, and a silver and black pen. ‘Inside are the numbers of each position,’ he said briskly. ‘As you move on round, you give a tick against any of the guys you feel you’d like to talk to again later.’

  I glanced sideways into one of the mirrors – I didn’t look quite so bad in here, but I still felt daft.

  ‘Just start doing it,’ said Cal, ‘and we’ll get some general shots of you, then we’ll come in close for the conversation in a while.’ He grinned and nodded at my glass. ‘Keep knocking it back. You’ll be fine.’

  I was directed to one of the tables near the dance floor. Number Six was an earnest-looking bloke of about forty with a beard.

  ‘Is this your first time doing one of these?’ he asked. I nodded. He was studying political science as a mature student, he told me, and liked Genesis and “radical theatre”. I told him I was a copywriter and he asked me what I thought about the toxicity of global consumerism. I said it made me want another drink. It was hardly a match made in heaven.

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Cal, grinning some more as I moved on to number 28.

  ‘He’s too young,’ I hissed as I tried to climb elegantly onto the bar stool opposite a boy with spots.

  ‘Just play along with it,’ Cal murmured back. ‘It’s good to see some variety.’

  ‘How old are you?’ I asked bluntly.

  ‘Twenty-three,’ said the juvenile dubiously, clearly wondering who this old woman was.

  ‘Can you look a bit more interested, La?’ Cal whispered in my ear. I felt a little flicker of pleasure at the special name, but I still frowned.

  ‘I’m going to look like a paedophile,’ I muttered back. ‘I’ll be interested in someone older.’

  Cal put an arm around my shoulders as everyone moved round again. ‘Lots of younger men really fancy older women,’ he said casually. ‘I could see it written all over that guy’s face – he’d have jumped at the chance. I don’t think you realise how attractive you are …’

  He grabbed another drink from a passing girl with a tray and pressed it into my hand. ‘Here, have another one – tell yourself you’re fabulous. Never fails with me.’ He laughed. ‘champagne makes everything better.’

  He was right. By the time I’d had my third glass, I was feeling very much improved. I found I could walk in the heels, after all, and even the dress felt a bit looser now I’d been wearing it a while.

  ‘I think we’ve nearly got enough now,’ said Cal, after I’d sat through three minutes in the company of a bloke with a twitch and overpowering garlic-breath, ‘but maybe just a couple more. I know it’s excruciating for you but –’ he gave me a wink. ‘Just pretend.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you later,’ he added softly, his hand trailing down my bare arm. I felt a delicious shock go right up my spine and could still feel the glow of his finger tips as I went onto the next table.

  Number 17 was quite good-looking and probably about my age. He chatted easily about his job as a software engineer and his recent divorce (there was always something). I leant forward and tried to look fascinated, thinking that if I were doing this for real, he’d be one I might have put a tick against. ‘Oh, and I’m a vegan,’ he finished. Perhaps not then.

  The last contender I spoke to was the organiser, posing as one of the punters. He was one of these open shirt, hairy chest, too much aftershave, too-tight trousers types – the only thing missing was the medallion.

  He gave me the full low-down on his attributes, including the flash penthouse and sports car, and offered plenty of innuendo about his prowess in the sack. He grinned into the camera frequently, evidently thinking that since he was totally irresistible, women all over the country would flock to his speed-dating parties in the hope of tracking him down.

  Thoroughly into role now, I pouted and made eyes at him while trying not to snort out loud.

  ‘Oh my God, save me from any more,’ I giggled
to Cal, now feeling pleasingly tipsy after my fourth glass of champagne. I fluffed my hair up a bit more in front of one of the mirrors and tugged up my dress – my cleavage now looked in danger of escaping altogether. I didn’t look too bad at all now. Though I really needed to eat.

  Cal signalled to Matt. ‘Yeah – come on, let’s get out of here. OK, it’s a wrap.’

  He put his hand on my waist and led me out of the room. Hot date Number Six was still sat at his table, introducing himself to a girl in a bright pink T-shirt and jeans, using the same sparkling opener he’d used on me. ‘Is this your first time doing one of these …?’

  ‘We’re nearly done now,’ Cal was saying. ‘We just want to get a little bit more of you talking to camera. We may not use it, but just in case …’ He led me into another bar. ‘We’ve done quite a lot of that with the other two subjects and we might need a bit more from you for balance. Is that OK? It won’t take long.’

  He sat me a table in the corner. As usual I could see people glancing toward us as Matt and Russ set up. Cal had got me yet another glass of champagne. I pulled a face at him. ‘This is going straight to my head – I haven’t really eaten today.’

  ‘We’ll have dinner afterwards,’ he promised, sitting down opposite me and giving me one of his slow smiles that made my toes tingle.

  ‘OK. We’re just going to talk about how you feel. I’ll be asking you questions off screen, but basically it’s going to be you talking to camera.’ His eyes fixed on mine and he gave me that look again. Something inside me went soft and squidgy. His voice was low and sensual.

  ‘How do you feel about being in your 40s, now?’

  ‘Well,’ I said. ‘I’m feeling better about it. I know I’m a bit dodgy today – I’ve got shocking PMT ’ I paused to laugh, to show that this didn’t mean I was about to start chewing on small children ‘ but generally I have been feeling pretty good. You know, with all the exercise and stuff – the going to the gym, the new haircut. I feel good about having lost some weight.’

  I wasn’t slurring but I had that sense of my words becoming a bit treacly. Cal didn’t seem to notice. He was nodding encouragingly. ‘How did you feel before then?’