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Authors: Alan Daniels
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boost our projected payroll to justify a municipal tax increase. "
She smiled.
" What happens if people actually apply? "
" Well, if they phone, we put ' em through a sequence of punching 27 numbers, ' for service in Hindi, press 4, ' etc. This takes about 15 minutes. Eventually, they get through to a recording entirely in Urdu. Otherwise, we send them a form letter: We ' re sorry, the position has already been adjustified. "
" And if the job is ' interim assistant rodent eradicator? ' "
" We tell ' em the position has already been eradicated. "
Catherine laughed. She didn ' t believe a word he was saying.
It was her round and she went to the bar.
When she got back, George was ready with a proposition.
" Tell you what, " he said. " Suppose we work as a team, help each other, critiquing each other ' s work. If one of us gets published we share the prize 50-50. It ' s still a lot of money. "
" That ' s actually not a bad idea, " she said. " Between the two of us we have the niche markets pretty well sewn up. Two tickets for the lottery are better than one. "
" Have you ever written a novel before? "
" No. You? "
" A few short stories, but nothing I ' ve submitted for publication. You say you write poetry, any luck there? "
" I ' ve been published in the university mag, but nothing more exciting than that. Writing a novel would be a first for me. It can ' t be that difficult. I imagine it ' s like pottery and I ' ve done a ton of that. You have a thing in mind that want to create. You form it and shape it. Then you keep throwing clay at it and spinning the wheel. "
George laughed. He liked the analogy.
" How are you with deadlines? " he asked her.
" I ' m okay with them. I do my best work under pressure. "
" Okay, so let ' s say we stay in touch. We each work on a detailed outline, write a couple of sample chapters and six months from now if we both still agree we have a realistic shot, we take it from there, finish the job. If not, we go our separate ways. Deal? "
" Deal. "
They clinked classes and drank to it. They would be partners not competitors. George liked that. He liked Catherine. She reminded him of Pem, or how he had imagined her, when she was that age. And Catherine liked George, she liked a man she could have a good laugh with. And it ' s always useful to have friends at town hall.
Next morning, as he left his flat in Pimlico to begin his research, he felt strangely elated. His destination was London Olympia and the opening day of what was billed as the world ' s largest erotica exhibition. It promised to lay out before him " the entire spectrum of human sexuality " and all for twenty-five quid admission. Yet despite the anticipation he felt and the promise – the promise of what, he wondered – it was the journey not the destination that excited him. For the first time in years George had a real job, a project. He was no longer a retired civil servant. He was a writer. And if he was going to write erotic literature after a lengthy absence as it were from the field of play, he could do worse than to get acquainted with what ' s out there.
But what should he wear? How do you dress appropriately for the entire spectrum of human sexuality? A suit seemed too formal, a blazer too sporty and a raincoat, well, too pervy. He settled on beige corduroy trousers, a blue and white striped shirt and a suede jacket he had bought 20 years ago in Istanbul when he attended a conference on new engineering concepts in storm water drainage. Over the decades the jacket had lost its buttons, but George felt the unbuttoned look to be slightly rakish and he wore with it his best fedora, the one that been blown off by the wind and run over by a yellow cab two years ago in Brooklyn leaving tire marks and a crease in the brim that mercifully had all but healed.
He felt prepared for anything as he joined the throng on Wilton Road hurrying towards Victoria Station. Draped around his neck was the broad strap of his
She smiled.
" What happens if people actually apply? "
" Well, if they phone, we put ' em through a sequence of punching 27 numbers, ' for service in Hindi, press 4, ' etc. This takes about 15 minutes. Eventually, they get through to a recording entirely in Urdu. Otherwise, we send them a form letter: We ' re sorry, the position has already been adjustified. "
" And if the job is ' interim assistant rodent eradicator? ' "
" We tell ' em the position has already been eradicated. "
Catherine laughed. She didn ' t believe a word he was saying.
It was her round and she went to the bar.
When she got back, George was ready with a proposition.
" Tell you what, " he said. " Suppose we work as a team, help each other, critiquing each other ' s work. If one of us gets published we share the prize 50-50. It ' s still a lot of money. "
" That ' s actually not a bad idea, " she said. " Between the two of us we have the niche markets pretty well sewn up. Two tickets for the lottery are better than one. "
" Have you ever written a novel before? "
" No. You? "
" A few short stories, but nothing I ' ve submitted for publication. You say you write poetry, any luck there? "
" I ' ve been published in the university mag, but nothing more exciting than that. Writing a novel would be a first for me. It can ' t be that difficult. I imagine it ' s like pottery and I ' ve done a ton of that. You have a thing in mind that want to create. You form it and shape it. Then you keep throwing clay at it and spinning the wheel. "
George laughed. He liked the analogy.
" How are you with deadlines? " he asked her.
" I ' m okay with them. I do my best work under pressure. "
" Okay, so let ' s say we stay in touch. We each work on a detailed outline, write a couple of sample chapters and six months from now if we both still agree we have a realistic shot, we take it from there, finish the job. If not, we go our separate ways. Deal? "
" Deal. "
They clinked classes and drank to it. They would be partners not competitors. George liked that. He liked Catherine. She reminded him of Pem, or how he had imagined her, when she was that age. And Catherine liked George, she liked a man she could have a good laugh with. And it ' s always useful to have friends at town hall.
Next morning, as he left his flat in Pimlico to begin his research, he felt strangely elated. His destination was London Olympia and the opening day of what was billed as the world ' s largest erotica exhibition. It promised to lay out before him " the entire spectrum of human sexuality " and all for twenty-five quid admission. Yet despite the anticipation he felt and the promise – the promise of what, he wondered – it was the journey not the destination that excited him. For the first time in years George had a real job, a project. He was no longer a retired civil servant. He was a writer. And if he was going to write erotic literature after a lengthy absence as it were from the field of play, he could do worse than to get acquainted with what ' s out there.
But what should he wear? How do you dress appropriately for the entire spectrum of human sexuality? A suit seemed too formal, a blazer too sporty and a raincoat, well, too pervy. He settled on beige corduroy trousers, a blue and white striped shirt and a suede jacket he had bought 20 years ago in Istanbul when he attended a conference on new engineering concepts in storm water drainage. Over the decades the jacket had lost its buttons, but George felt the unbuttoned look to be slightly rakish and he wore with it his best fedora, the one that been blown off by the wind and run over by a yellow cab two years ago in Brooklyn leaving tire marks and a crease in the brim that mercifully had all but healed.
He felt prepared for anything as he joined the throng on Wilton Road hurrying towards Victoria Station. Draped around his neck was the broad strap of his
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