Description:

When Julie Stanton moves in with Richard Webb one Saturday night in May, she doesn’t expect their romantic evening together to end with her walking out of the flat, clutching the bottle of plonk (cheap wine) she had hoped they would drink to toast their new relationship.

But then Julie and the bottle of plonk part company, setting the stage for a series of new stories that end with the passing of the bottle. Before journey's end, you will get an intoxicating glimpse into the lives and loves of 13 compelling heroines who never quite manage to pop the cork.

Excerpt:

"I keep him interested and I keep him coming back for more. Just like that sheikh's wife in the Arabian nights. A different story every night. I'm nothing more than a high class pro really. Except that I can't help loving the old sod too, so I hope I can keep the magic going."

A shadow crossed her face for a moment then she grinned. “Come and have a look at the Boudoir.” She opened a drawer revealing rows and rows of cassettes. “Here’s Ravel’s Bolero. I heard it in some film with Bo Derek. Before your time, dear; it must have been ten years ago. Used to turn her on. Does the same for me. I liked it even before Torvill and Dean. Weren’t they fabulous at the Olympics?” Linda didn’t manage to get in an answer, before she took out another tape. “I like The Stripper too.”

She led Linda into an ensuite bathroom.

“This is a bit of a pig to clean,” she said, indicating an olive sunken bath. “Still, we like to have a bath or shower together. Lawrence says it reminds him of rugby - vive le difference, I say. Well, enough of this nonsense. Let’s go and have some more sandwiches and a nice cup of coffee”

There was so much to talk about that it came as a surprise to Linda when she realized it was already ten-thirty. Helena pressed Linda to take a taxi home.

“Have a little treat on me,” Helena had said, pushing it into her hand. Linda got out of the cab carrying a Gucci carrier bag.

The house was in darkness. Linda turned on the light and smiled. She was aware that the alcohol was making her feel quite unlike her normal self. She went to the stack system, put on a cassette of “Ravel’s Bolero” and turned the volume up loud. “When I’ve got him eating out of my hand, like Helena said, things’ll be different,” she told herself, stripping off her clothes and leaving them where they fell on the living room floor.

She opened the carrier bag and donned the wisps of black lace contained within, with shaking hands, careful not to snag the flimsy material. Black fishnet stockings and a red suspender belt completed the effect. She teetered up the stairs in her high heels and opened the bedroom door, turning on the dimmer switch, so that the pink shaded lights brought a soft glow to the room. The music followed her, its insistent repetitious melody increasing in volume and urgency. Linda waited at the foot of the bed, her hands on her hips, as her husband’s breathing became irregular and he made small wakeful grunts. As Ravel’s Bolero reached an excited crescendo, Barry opened his eyes.

Customer Reviews: