PUSSY

She was standing with her back to them as Arnold and Richard came, rather breathless, up the stairs and entered the kitchen. From the back she was slim and energetic, her fair hair gathered in tightly curled bunches by great red hair curlers. The radio was playing jaunty pop songs, she was quickly and concentratedly making a great heap of sandwiches for the party, did not look round as they entered. Arnold immediately went up to her, relying as always on the warmth of bodily communication, and spread his strong arm around her. Angela continued to prepare the sandwiches.

'She's even more lovely than the salad,' Arnold began, talking to the window, overlooking from its top-floor vantage point, big old Victorian houses of three storeys and twenty rooms, in fading red brick, with tiny porches, tiny gardnes about the driveways, the noticeably cleaner air of Hampstead Heath wafting gently through the noonday window of Saturday. Silence in the street, an occasional single young woman, shopping under arm, floppy fashionable trousers breezing up the hill.

'When did you get back?' was the first thing Angela asked.

Arnold had not seen this blue blonde creature before, but she was a prize. An exponent of the telephone manner, he had assiduously and climatically wooed her. Three hours of high-spirited conversation. The entire expression one of good fellowship, she was the very best friend of Madeleine, who was half in love with Arnold and half in love with his aura of being a stage director. Madeleine was big, broad shouldered, steady, dependable and consistently coquettish. At 27 she had learned to be pleasing, and her sometimes wheezing breathing gave only a little sign of her desperation. A complete dramatic contrast to the sylph-like, immensely concentrated movements of Angela. Arnold had detailed his plans for the evening in exceptionally confident manner in the hurrying, hurtling two hour drive from Somerset. Inbetween listening to the solider's harrowing details of how in Northern Ireland the police were picking on 16 year old girls and giving them a savage beating. Arnold was in his knowledgeable-about-women pose, while Richard drove the battered cracked chassis of a car at 90 mph, he leaned back in his seat and confidently addressed the soldier.

'So you know Andrea in South Kensington?'

The soldier nodded.

'Everbody's crawled through Andrea, good goodness, Andrea' - cackles - 'she's a very old friend.'

He slapped the soldier on the back.

''Now tonight I have a most delicious creature just waiting to be bedded.'

Arnold was dressed for Chelsea. A suede jacket of many button-down pockets, good thick trousers of a distinguished not exuberant blue, bright yellow rollneck jersey, chunky thick leather boots.

'It's the first time she's been out for weeks, her old man's got too sure of himself, she has to play him around, tonight I know is the time for a little madness. And as we say, don't we Richard?' - a quick glance at Richard for confirmation, who was intently overtaking every car, the soldier often looking up to check they would be able to overtake, so touch and go was it - 'there's none so willing as the insecure.'

Arnold became very confident and serious.

'Now she's completely hooked on this company director who can't stand his wife, but can't' - very heavily emphasised - 'leave because of a sweet daughter. She loves him, she would do anything for him, but she's got to keep him a little jealous, go off for evenings by herself, look very satisfied afterwards, you get the scene?'

The soldier got the scene.

'How do you know Andrea?' he asked, amazed that someone else knew the woman.

Arnold was very perfunctory.

'Do you want to know the truth?'

The solider nodded.

'She's a cheap whore with a bit of bread, always throwing parties, some parties...' he looked cockily at the soldier.

No, he had only been to this one with some guys he had met in the pub.

they dropped the soldier off. He was very grateful for the ride.

''Just this very minute,' Arnold replied to Angela's casual questioning.

He brought his arm tighter round her slim body, she still filling the sandwiches, moved directly behind and pulled her to him. Angela broke away by leaning over to the drying board of the sink, picking up a heap of buttered bread. Still in the same effortless movement she spun around out of Arnold's grasp and moved a step towards Richard, who very quietly and diplomatically had halted near the the kitchen door opening out onto the stairway landing. As Angela spun round he walked forward more into the kitchen. Angela knew this must be the man with the healthy laugh on the end of the telephone line, she was prepared for someone unusual, she felt a little ordinary with her hair arranged in three big red curlers but ir revealed the sharp clean lines of her perfect oval face. She blazed out light from her eyes as she spun around. Said nothing.

He was tall, dressed in a fawn rollneck jersey, turquoise colour soft jeans, light shoes, with fine brown hair, it seemed to shine very brilliantly in the weak sunshine coming from the kitchen windows.There was a strange half smile, half beam, on his face, yet it seemed his natural demeanour, there was no effort behind it, she had deliberately spun round very quickly to catch him off guard. The skin was clear with the colour of sea winds announced in the slight reddening of the very fair pigment, his eyes were a patterned blue and deeply shining, she said nothing, letting his presence flow into her like a rush of air.

He picked up her eyes from the background of her hair, almost yellow hair, and browned tightened skin on the prominent cheek bones. The eyes immediately recognised and knew his being, smiled clearly and unmistakeably, an attraction that was wild, welcoming. In the flash of meeting their eyes discovered no hinderance to complete knowledge of each other, the strength of her signal knocked away all of caution or intrigue, he gazed satisfied upon her and said in a low eager voice full of keenest surprise, 'Cleopatra.'

She smiled with her mouth now too, became very warm, he could touch her body without using his hands, she was so completely pervasive in the room. Knowing she had been already deeply acknowledged Angela switched to pleasantness.

'You were driving?'

'Yes, it was a really nice drive, two hours ago we were in Somerset,' he gave a delightful boyish smile, showing his nicotine stained smallish teeth.

'Really! Two hours ago!' Angela exclaimed in genuine surprise.

''Yes, really.'

Arnold began talking very quickly to Angela in the manner of an old friend. He wasn't actually certain he would be sleeping with her tonight, but her reputation of being game for anything - reported with factual earnestness by Steve, who claimed she had joined him and Marina in bed one night and gaily let him finger her passage - plus her exuberant friendliness in their two long phone conversations which had hovered around the subject of loving and giving, all this gave him the impression that here was a young, just mature, white woman who wished to try to out her sexual prowess with a black man. There was, he knew, an element of rivalry between her and Madeleine, all the factors seemed combined to make it a very easy and rather desireable experience. Madeleine was due back some time that evening from the Balearic Islands, ti was to be her grand welcome-home birthday party. Now seemed the best time to make the initial and secondary moves, it should all go very smoothly, he felt hugely confident.

He found himself speaking about mutual friends.

'I've been trying to get in touch with Steve all week. Have you heard from him? I suppose he's bringing over lots of delicious dolly birds, did I see Madeleine's present in there? What sort of sandwiches are they?'

'Crab and lettuce, see?'

She opened up one of the sandwiches and held it very close to his face, she made it appear a gesture of great intimacy and her voice was the patient voice of a mother explaining to an adored son.

'I've heard from Marina Madeleine's arriving back at five, is that what you've heard?'

'Yes, I'm going over the airport to pick her up after this.'

Richard had walked over to the phone by the window as the pair of them engaged in their quick flowing bantering conversation.

Angela looked up and smiled agreeably at him as he picked up the phone, then she went back to quickly filling the sandwiches.

Richard had the feeling he was being closely observed as he waited for the car hire firm to answer the call.

'We had a crash down in Devon,' he explained, 'but I want ot hold on to the car until Monday.'

Arnold began telling Angela about the crash, began laughing intermittently, she listened carefully, yet Arnold seemed to have difficulty holding her attention, he was very close to the strong lines of her forehead , she smelt very fresh and clean, he felt her warmth of body through his leg resting on her behind, she moved rhyhmically back and forth filling the sandwiches, now he had her completely within his sphere, he laughed loudly...

''I saw the buggar, his headlights were full on, I swung the wheel, whipped it back, crash! Off we go again, spinning around for all we're worth' - he dug her in the ribs - 'we end up in the other lane facing the other way, he comes groaning out of the car holding his head, he looked newted to me...'

Richard was speaking very seriously to the car hire firm, after all, one of their cars had been badly battered, he felt insulted, one of the mechanics had started talking about a madcap who had turned a car over on ice, written it off, as he was taking the car out the week before.

'And you see I can't tell you for definite whether I'll be able to drive back or not.'

'Well Mr Fairway make sure the car is in good condition before you drive back. The brakes could easily go in a bash like that. As I say only drive back if the garage is certain the car's up to it.'

'Yes certainly,' Richard said, seeking to bring the long conversation to a close.

'That's that,' he stated happily.

''It sounded very serious,' said Angela, appearing a little concerned.

''Yes, I'm a bit worried about getting my deposit back,' said Richard warming to her again.

Completely aware of her rightful relationship to the two men, Angela re-entered into her merry making conversation with Arnold, him she seemed to know extraordinarily well from their two phone conversations, he had an enormous magentic charm about him, which he assiduously put to work.

Casual and at the same time earnest, he walked away from Angela to a chair by the kitchen table and sat down. Richard, feeling that the two were at least good acquaintances deemed it fit to walk through a door leading off the kitchen into a woman's bedroom. The flat was small and and compact, in the manner of former grand houses split up into a self-contained flat on each floor. The door to the flat was halfway up the stairs from the main hallway. Entrance to the flat was obtained by pulling on a rope which knocked a stick onto the kitchen window pane. Continuing through the front door and then the door of the flat you led onto a landing, the kitchen was off one end of this landing. Retracing his steps he went into the room at the other end and found himself in the living room. Large posters of Paul Newman, Dustin Hoffman and Marlon Brando dominated the room. All three were posed male pin-up shots, face and chest photographed without any adornment of clothes. Dustin Hoffman was with a cigarette as if to say 'extra masculinity'.

'Yes, put on a record,' called Angela after Richard.

He looked through the heap of long players in a box on the floor, adjusted the stereo controls to give a balanced sound and deep tone, placed a Joe Cocker record on the turntable.The first song was a finger tapping, 'It's alright'. Richard felt very alive, the effects of his LSD trip were still making him feel extra alert, he began to move around the room in time to the record's beat.

'Are you coming to the airport?' Angela asked Arnold.

'Of course, of course, when shall we go?'

'As soon as I can change after this.'

'Fine. I'm really looking forward to meeting Madeleine again. You must show me the present.'

''It's in there,' said Angela gaily pointing into the bedroom where a great package was brightly wrapped up in scintillating red and blue colours.

'Happy Birthday Madeleine was blazoned across the top in neat large handwriting. Arnold quickly glanced at the package through the door then put his hand up to his forehead in mock consternation.

'Oh my God! I've got to get some drink before the shops shut. Angela, you'll be an hour yet, won't you?

'Yes, but not much longer than an hour. In fact, I've got to get down the shops right now.'

Arnold collected Richard from the living room, he had the car, they would have to go over to Highgate, as there was an off-licence he knew where they would accept cheques.

'We're going over your place,' Arnold told Richard.

Richard was wondering how much petrol was left in the car. he had used up most of his money going down to Devon. They all three went down the stairs together.

At the top of the stairs Angela asked Richard, 'Do you often hire cars?'

'When I need them,' Richard carefully replied, it seemed a question about his financial standing, he considered himself fairly prosperous ias an up-and-coming journalist for a national newspaper, wished to convey that impression, although after only six months of steady work behind him he was not even well off for clothes, in fact the old fawn rollneck he was earning had been given to him by a friend on return from abroad.

They could only have been in the flat ten minutes but Arnold and Richard had changed from two self-satisfied males into two warring rivals. As they came down the stairs Arnold was quietly sure he would definitely have Angela before the evening was out, the self importance was growing in him, the chest was swelling out. The confident relaxed hands-in-pocket yet button-holing manner was upon him. Benign good wishes to all mankind who helped him on his way, the benignity to cause those unsure to be impressed by obvious benefactors in Arnold's background. It was a magnificent show, most of the time Arnold himself believed he had really made it, his confidence was of a man who had directed a dozen plays and not one short experimental production. His manner was of an executive flown about in a helicopter - in fact letting his imagination flow outwards he would charm delicious girls in the honeyed words of a black handsome man with details of the 'chopper' ride, eyes lit up as he told such enormous lies they must be true. Arnold was a Scorpio - all was fair in love and war.

The two men were driving slowly out of the driveway when Angela's little red sports car landed on the road from the pavement she had mounted while turning, accelerating all the time, in a full circle. Now, hand and face brightly saying goodbye, she accelerated down the road. Arnold was impressed by her cunning and sense of timing, Richard by her quick energetic martial movements, she had strode very forcibly out to the car, if you allowed for the the necessary female demure manner on the surface, underneath those movements of her body had been savage, determined, dagger-swift. Her body pointed in a direction and all of her being with maximum efficiency concentrated on setting her in that direction and maintainig swift progress.

Richard was considering when he ought to attempt Angela. He was not sure of her feelings towards him. It seemed as if there were an attraction, he was not sure how much this woman put her desires into practice, she might be yet another wish-defying woman, another who would gaze fondly and lovingly on a treasure chest, finger all the jewels, try them on, and then say 'No, I cannot take all these as the price for sleeping with me.' Angela did not seem like that, she seemed someone who was used to getting what she wanted.

'Why don't you ge round the flat again and stay there till the party?' Arnold asked.

No. I'll get the booze, take it back with you, then go back for a bath,' Richard decided aloud.

He wanted to be free of Arnold Lloyd for a while. They were both after the same woman and that's where friendship always broke down in the end. A fight between the fittest of the species, did it have to be like that? The night before in Devon Richard had been dancing with a young woman, she had only recently left being a girl, by nature's calculations she was a perfect flower of a young woman, every curve and piece of skin soft, full of life and energy, eager to please. He was dressed in a theatrical one-piece skin-tight space suit, he had the energy and perception of his LSD inside him, they had met the previous week, she had gone off with her similarly aged boyfriend, this week they were back together dancing, becoming entranced, suddenly the fist of the boyfriend was colliding with his chin, he remembered the ugly shouldering away of the girl, the lip curling sneer, the expectancy of a quick execution. Richard's head whirled with light, he stood there, the boyfiend stood still as Richard slowly looked at her, blaming her complicity amid his surprise, another friend stood quietly hehind the girl's boyfriend ready for trouble. All at a whirling speed, a few picture frames of a film's twenty four frames a second, no anger in his LSD mind.

'This situation with these people and this attempted poaching has happened ages before,' flashed a message and then gone.

He walked up to the boyfriend who had been unable to obtain any reaction to his fullest punch, took his arms, led him quaking in visible fear across the room, then let him slowly go, saying 'Cool it.' As he left he could see the girlfriend shiver through her body at his gaze. She did not dare to look at him. Richard was somewhat hurt as he walked casually out of the club, he joking to Arnold, who was serious and attentive to him.

Arnold Lloyd really did think Madeleine was a fine woman - at least he told himself he did. He did feel great sympathy and encouragement from her, this he needed. In his being, his heart, lurked the knowing feeling - for Arnold was a remarkably accurate and perceptive observer - that his finances or at least his prospects formed a good proportion of his allure. Perhaps it was more complicated than that, perhaps Madeleine needed to stress her stage director man in order to justify his blackness and her whiteness. Then again she was fattish, oldish, poorish, and he was very handsome. Arnold enjoyed her solicitude, it had none of the heart rending intensity of his broken American affair. It was cosy and comforting. There seemed few restrictions to the arrangement. He was helped a great deal by Madeleine. Arnold also suspected a vanquishing white woman, man hating, with a much suffered nervous disposition. He suspected her to be self-seeking, independent to a marked degree (her casualness about what he did was matched by what she expected he would let her do). Madeleine - Arnold suspected - wanted to climb on his back and get 'there'. There was a land of easy contented living, he had once felt he glimpsed into the being of Madeleine, saw an old woman gripping ferociously at her coins since she felt so poor inside. Arnold was glad that she was coming back tonight, he wondered if she would really mind if he 'had' such a close friend of hers. He was not really going to go out of his way, but if Angela was so keen on him...

Driving back from Highgate the sun shone, it was a clear February afternoon.The angry snarl of the weekday traffic, the impatient mannes of the drivers, were gone. He drove effortlessly, the cars moved gently off in bunches from the lights, at each halt the motorists gazed coolly out at the busier, more alive scene on the streets, mothers with prams, young couples exercising dogs, a breeze blowing, trees shaking, the road grew more rural as they skirted along Hampstead Heath, Parliament Hill Fields, going past gracious houses, hillocks and rises, clumps of trees on the Heath, a steeple or more rising, the London of Keats and Coleridge meeting by Hampstead Ponds, the truly elegant had gone, it had only been preserved because it was treasured by a few wise souls, it had found expression in words of wing, but the voice and the time was gone, it had been a thin reed voice, this voice of civilisation, miraculously it had risen and flowered in tiny spots, such as these London outskirts, the buildings said it all, perhaps for 20 years a most calm atmosphere prevailed, Victoria edged into the throne, the genius was harnessed to expansion, but also to accumulation, the genius' outpourings became fewer, less high flown, the oversurging spirit could not be contained within the narrower confines of mere accumulation and it was disregarded. Gilbert wrote the words, Sullivan wrote the rhythms, London was taking it easy, the forward rushing spirit was biding its time, the Empire was increasing, the stage was apparently set fair, but Germany was chasing Victoria's dreams. Victoria had brought those dreams of Empire with her Germanic inheritance and now France had Germany at her throat, the order ot the day was 'Unimaginable wealth can be ours.' The singing spirit of Schiller, Goethe, Shelley, Keats, Byron, was drowned in raucousness. England and Germany strove for the riches of the world. In the end it had to come to a fight, as Germany greedily eyes France and Russia, England attacks her formidable rival. From the blood, the mutilated victims and the hollow earth, survivors crawled out into the reality of cities that in these men's minds were still the trenches, miles of greyness, barrenness, decay, with meaningless death waiting to end it. The country's spirit was lying with her dead and all knew it would be an enormous time before anyone dare again mention golden ages. As an afterthought (some were convinced Germany had been betrayed not beaten) came the chaos of conflict beginning again on an even more mechanised scale, the ghost of the Anglo-German spirit tore at itself once more, her scientists produced weapons to destroy the world, and the East was moved to war after hundreds of years of peace. All were now combatants.

The sun does not shine strongly in England during February. The light is weak and yellowish, it does cast a clear distinct pathwork of pastel shades, the trees, adding to the thin yellow beams their green and grey, assume a delightful beginner's paintbook oddity of hue, the grasses are not properly green, the sky is all wisps of off-white, hazy purples and greyish blues. To young men who pine for the strong purposeful throb of summer's light and heat, the weak yellow light can carry a boding of distant promise.

IIt would not be true to say that Arnold and Richard's brief encounter with Angela had changed their relationship, it was firmly grounded in mutual respect. However the easy bantering and casual togetherness of the two in Devon had suddenly ceased, as they drove back to Hampstead with a car full of drinks purchased by their respective banks' cheques they talked only and carefully of the forthcoming party.

''There'll be stacks of women, they all go, I know,' Arnold stated with conviction.

Richard halted at the bottom of Haverstock Hill, waiting to drive out past the downpouring traffic and ascend the hill.The Roundhouse looked almost beautiful, the grey ramshackle roof losing its hardness in the soft light, the form predominating, giving order to the inconsistencies. As usual there was an appeal to save it from closure.

''£40,000 needed for new workshop'.

They drove up the hill, the homes looked cleaner and larger, they began to take on a Germanic air, red and multi-faceted, they were built in the style of many distinguished schools, rather as Roedean on the sea cliffs, solid and enduring with hints of mystery behind their small bay windows and creeping ivy, the hill exuded order and the triumph of man's steady unremitting labour. The car turned off Parliament Hill's byways, halted outside Madeleine and sister Marina's flat within sight of the green edge of Hampstead Heath.

Arnold picked up two boxes full with cheap wines plus two special boxes of Scotch. Richard, following, brought the cans of beer, the doors were wide open, they arrived back in the kitchen to find the sandwiches Angela had busily prepared now splendidly set about the ttable in polished china plates. She smiled openly at the sight of the alcohol coming into view. It promised to be a good rousing party. She needed one, winter was dragging on and since she had recently launched herself off on her new life as more or less Max's acknowledged mistress, she had wavered around her commitment. It was fine to be the girlfriend of a married man with a young daughter, she had enjoyed the secrecy and breathlessness of it all, she could feel at the same time she still belonged to the perhaps aging but resolutely determined band of weekend revellers, putting off future domesticity for a sophisticated extension of late adolescent ravings. Now the participants all had cars, careers and carnal experience but it was still possible to tell oneself you were just like a lot of other people, having a good time and enjoying the fruits of hard-won early success in life. Besides how else was one to meet an up-and-coming eligible young man or men? Of course they came for a good booze and the possibility at least of a good lay, she enjoyed the sexual enticement game. Live it up, live daringly. The long simple period of her flirtation with Max drew on. Andrew, the man she had stood up on their wedding day receded into the comfortable past. Max was offering her a cheap flat with no strings attached, she was becoming tired of life with Marina and Madeleine, the endless procession of horsey, hearty, fun-loving, false young men who teased you and played you around, who were so childlike and irresponsible and unbearably vain, winter was drawing on, the row with Madeleine erupted.

'I can't stand all these oafs taking over the place every weekend,' she had screamed, then she was sobbing, she had never realised how much she disliked Madeleine's willingness to be bedded, she didn't like her friends to be such easy meat for these greedy grasping child men.

Max was mature and understanding, it was only a change of residence, besides she was off flying half the time, of course she had no intention of trying to wreck the marriage, after the row she left, she was past the flighty young thing stage, at 24 she needed love and security, chance encounters and casual romances were beginning to pall. She was glad there was a party tonight, she felt nothing had changed in the two long winter months, just back from a skiiing holiday in Switzerland full of zest and life, any man she set her eyes on was hers, she was at the height of her powers.

'This should start the proceedings,' said Arnold, 'how many people are coming?'

'Oh stacks,' said Angela gushingly.

'We'll have a whip-round as soon as they come,' said Arnold, looking shocked at how little drink there was if it was going to be a slap-up party, and it was.

Suddenly Angela was rushing off.

'Put all the drink on the table there,' she indicated a table in the bedroom leading off the kitchen.

Arnold, once engaged on a task, set to it, with the thoroughness of a man who must express himself with physical action. He had the two boxes of drinks into the bedroom onto the floor beside the table and was soon stacking up the wine in an elegant fashion, a backdrop to the cans of beer. Richard went down for more cans from the car, coming back up the stairs, Angela solicitously called,

''Do you take sugar?'

'Yes, two.'

''Strong or weak?'

''Medium.'

''Ready in a minute.'

''Fine.'

By this time he was lounging against the kitchen wall, beaming his good nature. Angela returned the heartfelt smile. Richard felt sure they were immensely attracted. Angela probed him, assessed him rapidly.

Arnold cheerily called out, 'Don't forget me, will you?'

Angela laughed.

'It goes down well.'

'Down where?'

'Huh, you English women must know what a man thinks about his stomach.'

'So it's not all sex then?'

'What's not?'

'A man, you know what I'm talking about.' He laughed. Angela laughed. Richard laughed. Angela and Richard were smiling ecstatically at one another. This was a safe reaction to the mention of sex, sex was running through all the room, promise of satisfaction, excitement, newness, it permeated the being of the three of them.

'You can have her after me, Richard,' he said, wrapping his arm around her, cackling with glee at the easy way it had all come out into the open.

'How do you know you can have me?' she asked with coquettish innocence.

'If you want to, I want to, if you don't want to, I don't want to, let's be grown up.'

'I'd say she knows what she wants,' said Richard, laughing approvingly, his laugh seemed to speak of huge sexual enjoyment to come, his laugh seemed to say to Angela, ' I could enjoy you hugely and you could enjoy me too, there is no obstruction.'

Angela seemed to flit about the kitchen at high speed, every movement spoke of sex attraction, she was one functioning unit, motivated by desire, a unit which had sensed the satisfaction of that desire. Who did she want? Arnold suddenly realised Richard was in on the hunt with a chance.

'He's going all out to get her,' he said placing his hands on Richard's shoulders admiringly.

Richard laughed in acknowledgement. Angela looked over her shoulder searchingly for confirmation in his face that he wanted her.

''Do you like music?' she asked.

''I live on music, it's my food,' Richard replied.

the excitement between them made it extremely difficult to talk now, there was such a feeling of undischarged energy between the two, every time their eyes met they noted complete understanding of each other's need.

''Andre and Maurice were here just now, they're magicians - musicians,' she corrected herself and flushed red about the cheeks at her slip of the tongue.

She felt the presence of Richard boring into her, from the stubble on his chin she built up a picture of his beard, he had the face of a magician from ancient Egypt, he looked completely self-possessed, powerful, just standing within a yard of her, she could feel his power flooding down through her body into her legs which had had to move about at top speed so animated was she.

''Is it possible for other people to read your thoughts?' she asked.

''I can't help it,' Richard replied, he beamed with pleasure that he had been recognised.

He felt he had psychic powers, he had observed it over a year or more now, and was sure himself though it was reassuring to have someone else recognise his power. He now went over into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. He did not want to interfere on Arnold's territory, he did not know this was Angela's first meeting with him, they seemed old friends. The previous month he had poached a woman from Arnold, it had the relieving feature that he had met her in India but she had come to visit Arnold's flat and - no doubt - make love. Arnold was out at another woman's when Richard ushered her into the flat. He had been aggrieved on returning to find the pair about to depart for Richard's flat. Even being a stage director did not give automatic entry to every desireable vagina in town, and if a doting admirer travelled up to Nottiing Hill Gate at eleven pm on a Saturday night from Epsom in the suburbs...

Arnold, his desires doubly excited by the competition, now came up with his trump card.

''When are we going to the airport?' he asked Angela confidently excluding Richard.

He couldn't expect to win them all, he was a kind of brother, Richard could be trusted, but he did have a penchant for beautiful women, and this one, he - Arnold Lloyd - was going to win. Angela knew she had to go to the airport now, she had promised Madeleine. Arnold was not such a close friend of Madeleine that he could be trusted with this important task. Besides she enjoyed every opportunity to drive her red sports car out of town.

'It will take an hour, even going fast,' she said enticingly.

I'It's half three now,' Arnold stated flatly.

'Yes, and she's due in at five. Why don't you drive down there in Richard's car?'

'No, you've got to come,' he said deliberately.

Angela, for Richard's benefit, wavered, she was anyway a little confused at the rate things were happening, all this manoeuvring for position was not meant to take place until the party.

'And you want to go home, don't you?' she said very deliberately and knowingly at Richard,

He was perplexed at her great knowledge of his moves.

'Not necessarily.'

He was going to be as ambiguous as her.

'Arnold, you go, I've got to change,' she said.

'No, you've got to come too.'

Angela seemed to accept this order, she went off through a door in the bedroom to another smaller bedroom. Richard put his arms on Arnold's shoulders. They were very good friends, did not want a woman to upset the relationship, they were both worldly wise enough to not let her have them at each other's throat.

'Man, you're spoiling my scene,' said Richard laughing.

''Nonsense, Richard,' - the high spirits were returned - 'it's me she wants.'

''No, you're wrong.'

Being black, Arnold could never be sure of a white woman's attraction to him. Many liked to play with the seeming fire of a black man, not the actual insertion of the penis into the vagina, which was a far more snag-troubled affair. Arnold was coolly biding his time as he watched Richard make it a now or never thing in the middle of a quiet Saaturday afternoon when everybody's metabolism was directed towards the evening's promised wildness.

Arnold went slowly back into the kitchen. Richard sat down on the bed again. He felt so full of energy the could jump six feet into the air from his positioin. He rose, suddenly tense, perhaps she had gone into the bedroom to receive the first taker. He was still not clear whether she was teasing or wanting. He went to the small bedroom's door and opened it, the door banged into Angela somewhere behind it, bending down taking off one of her stockings.

'Just a minute,' she called, in a girl-surprised-in-her-bath voice.

'Sorry,' Richard said closing the door, confused.

She didn't seem to want any callers in her room. He sat down on the bed again.

She came out of the bedroom. He affected to be very calm. She went to the kitchen, appeared in the doorway leading into the large bedroom, held Richard sitting on the bed in her gaze, commanded him with her eyes to rise, he rose, instantaneously like a tiger about to strike.

'See you at the party then,' she said.

Richard started walking down the stairs with her. Arnold was sitting in the lounge playing records. As they opened the door on the stairs leading into the flat the young cat Richard had been fondling in the kitchen followed them.

''Don't let pussy out,' Angela called breathlessly, rushing down the last flight of stairs.

'Not yet,' answered Richard, amused, following her more slowly.

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