August 20, 2012 § Leave a comment
Deckshoes, long shorts, Ray Bans and Pimms– it could only mean one thing. St Ives.
I arrived on the Friday to hang out on a boat with Mike, Woolsey (a friend of Mike’s from the bank, old money, grew up in Mustique) and a couple of girls, Amanda who’s just returned from St Tropez (v v passe) and a girl from LA called Mikki who has a big coke habit.
On my part I brought Gale Tate. She has a nice body and a bold ginger bob which, while not to my taste, was still trussified enough to lend her a bit of credibility for the voyage.
Mike hired a boat from the Henley BC. With a case or two of Krug, some smoked salmon and a package of drugs we set off. Gale immediately sidled up to me and started to ask me how business was at the hedge fund. She was flirting outrageously taking me as far as she could go. But actually I am quite sanguine. Her body looked good in the Gucci bikini.
Mike skippered the boat while his cohorts were inside sniffing on their cocaine. I stayed outside savouring the sun. Gale pointedly asked me about the Fassbender affair. She told me that she’d heard one or two rumours. The signet ring found on his finger, which didn’t belong to him, the tar and feathers, the traces of woman. She was sure he had been blackmailing someone. The chairman of xx Bank perhaps. In truth she doesn’t know anything. It’s a simple ploy to get me to cough up.
She wants to know about my contretemps with that computer programmer? Why? Of course I made up some cock and bullshit story, about having been stalked. I in no way let on what I knew about the global trade algo.
Gale, though, was very persistent. She sidled up to me and started stroking my leg. I playfully told her to stop. She reached over as if to kiss me, then grabbed a strawberry from behind my back. Oh it was all so steamy.
Eventually Amanda appeared from inside and stripped off to her thong. But within five minutes she started to complain that she was getting burnt. She wanted to moor up somewhere and go for a swim. Her incessant whining finally led us to stop and her, Mike Mikki, Woolsey and Amanda went off for a swim. I want to join them but am too bloated with champagne.
No one could accuse me of being parti pris vs the common folk. But I don’t know where Mike picks up these savages from.
Gale dives in. I see her naked wet body flickering in the sea covered sun, dazzling white. My mind clouds over and I start to dream of Fassbender. He appeared to me on the shore, waving in his bermuda shorts.
“The code,” he whispered to me. “Twenty two twenty two.”
Then his head turned into a mole’s.
Then his head turned into a giant testicle.
“Remember the boy.”
Then he was surrounded by savages wearing leaf-clothes, poking him with spears and a pot.
I woke to the sounds of grunting coming from inside the cabin. It was getting dark. No one was around. I walked inside. There, on the bed was Gale, naked, with Mike and Amanda. Mike screamed for me to join them. Gale looked sly and shameless. Her face’s covered in white powder, like a clown’s. I should have been angry. But I am not. To tell you the truth all I could think of was Fassbender.
I know what the code is.