Seriously?

(A gay brief encounter)

By Alp Mortal

The Carter Seagrove Book Boutique Edition

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

All Rights Reserved

Author’s Note

‘Seriously’ is a short romantic story published as part of the ‘A gay brief encounter’ series. It is the eighth such story.

This story is written for an adult audience. This story contains the description of the non-sexual brief encounter between two men. It’s a simple and sweet story which I hope puts a smile on your face.

The image used in the design of the cover was downloaded from Depositphotos, copyright ‘i3alda’.

Thank you.

Alp Mortal

August 2014

alp.mortal@hotmail.com

www.alpmortal.weebly.com

carterseagrove@outlook.com

www.carterseagrove.weebly.com

Chapter One – Seriously?

“May I help you?”

“I’m looking for the hand cream that’s made by the nuns; do you know the one I mean?” he asked.

“Of course; it’s a favourite with many of our customers.”

“I’ll take some; the medium sized one.”

“Can I help you with anything else?”

“A scented candle; I must pick up a gift for my mother … something wildly floral!”

“Jasmine is always popular with ladies of a certain age …”

“Perfect! Can you gift wrap it for me please?”

“Certainly …”

Whilst I did so, I contemplated the man who was now idly looking along the shelves and occasionally out of the window. He was dressed very smartly, almost regally one might have said, and old money by the look of things; he paid with cash.

“Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome. I hope your mother enjoys the gift.”

He said nothing more and left quite swiftly, turning left out of the shop, heading down the Kings Road towards Partridge’s.

I would have quickly forgotten him had it not been for the fact that his cologne lingered in the air and it was one that I was not familiar with; antique leather and walnut, sandalwood and bergamot; if my nose did not betray me. It’s the blessing - or perhaps the curse - of working in a shop like this. I don’t own it, the shop; Leo does; I just work here.

Leo returned from his lunch.

“Beryl said that she saw Thorndyck Graves leaving the store; was he here?”

“Who the hell is Thorndyck Graves?”

“The actor!”

“No idea who you’re talking about but there was a gentleman in this morning; if that was him … looked like Edward Norton in ‘The Illusionist’…”

“That’s him … oh my God!”

“Big deal …” I offered.

“Deal?!”

I didn’t know the man, had never watched any of his films and on balance thought he was rather brusque.

No-one quite so lofty came in during the afternoon and I left at five-thirty as usual to grab the bus to Battersea.

My attention was taken up with thoughts of perhaps seeing Edward this evening; his text had been suitably non-committal, even cryptic but then he does like his games … in and out of the bedroom. We’ve been seeing each other for six months; perpetual dates with no commitment on either side. I know he’ll never be ready for the next step and knowing it makes me cautious and reserved. Why give your heart to someone who doesn’t want it?

As I waited for the bus, a man, noteworthy only because he was smartly dressed, approached me.

“Excuse me; are you the gentleman who works in the shop there?” he asked, pointing at the shop.

“Yes I am,” I replied.

“My employer would like to have a word with you … in private,” he said, gesturing at a blacked out Mercedes which was illegally parked a little way down the road.

“Me?”

“Yes; if you could just spare five minutes …”

I checked my watch because the bus was due. To be honest, I’m a little aroused by intrigue of all kinds and this was no exception.

“Okay …”

He started to walk towards the car and after only a moment’s hesitation I followed. He arrived first and opened the rear door, gesturing with his hand that I should get in. I looked at him squarely and then dived in; only to see Thorndyck Graves sitting in the back. Even if I hadn’t recognised his face, the cologne would have been enough to confirm it. I got in and the other man closed the door before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Where do you live?” asked Thorndyck.

“Battersea; on Battersea Park Road, above the place which sells the tiles.”

The chauffeur started the car and drove down the Kings Road. I turned to Thorndyck and before I could ask the obvious question he said, “You’ll forgive the theatricals; I have to be exceedingly careful.”

“Why?” I enquired, playing dumb.

“I’m Thorndyck Graves.”

“You say that like I should know who you are.”

“I’m the stage and Hollywood actor!” spoken with more than a little pride and a greatly inflated ego.

“Oh! So, how can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you were free this evening, perhaps for a drink or maybe something to eat …” there was an air of expectation and only then did I realise he was propositioning me.

“Uhm … really? I mean, I’m flattered but …”

“When I saw you in the shop today I just knew that you were someone that I should definitely get to know better.”

Which sounded like the biggest pile of crap ever.

“I already have a date this evening as it happens; but thank you for the offer.”

“You couldn’t reschedule?”

“I could, though it is a little late to cancel it now; but even if I did, why am I someone that you feel you need to get to know better? I’m not in the movies or anything; you know where I work …”

“And there you have the reason.”

“Is this like research for a role?”

“Not exactly, although the experience might be useful … I can guarantee you a very pleasant evening …”

I wanted him to say it; what it was exactly that he wanted from me. Maybe the presence of his chauffeur was enough for him to keep a guard on his tongue.

Thorndyck leaned forward, “Elliott; can you stop and stretch your legs for five minutes please?”

The driver pulled over and got out, closing his door.

“Look …” and of course he hadn’t even asked my name.

“Draycott …” I offered charitably.

“Draycott; I don’t really need to spell this one out do I?”

“Yes, I’m afraid you do,” I replied, less than charitably.

He squirmed a little.

“I thought we could have dinner and then see how things go.”

“Tell me exactly what you want,” I demanded.

“I want to fuck you …”

“That’s what I thought; thanks for the ride but I’m leaving now.”

“Please don’t; you don’t know how difficult it is to meet someone … someone nice.”

I paused to think about that and probably agreed that it must be very difficult but this was too ham-fisted and above all … clichéd. Who the fuck did he think he was; fucking royalty?

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I said as I reached out for the door handle.

“Idiot!” he hissed.

“Yes, you are,” I said as I got out and closed the door; looking at the driver I added, “Thanks …”

He said nothing and I wondered how many times he’d done this.

The car sped away and I found myself equidistant between two bus stops. Two buses sailed past.

“Fuck you Thorndyck Graves,” I cursed under my breath.

All the way home and right up to the time I went to bed I kept running this little charade through my mind. It helped to a degree that Edward had cancelled because I didn’t really feel I could concentrate on him just now. I was too, too angry; that was it; picked off the shelf and told to be grateful; that was how it felt.

“Fucking stupid, vain and arrogant pig!” My last thoughts before I fell asleep.

Chapter Two – Unwanted gifts

The following morning I went to work as usual and opened the shop at nine o’clock. Leo was at the dentist first thing and I didn’t expect to see him until at least ten-thirty. It’s always quiet; even when we’re busy we’re quiet. This isn’t Boots; this is a specialised stockist of the finest aromatherapy products you can find worldwide. I cleaned and prepared a list of the things we needed to re-order; hand cream made by nuns being at the top of the list as it always was.

I was in the rear stockroom when the shop bell rang, alerting me to the presence of someone in the shop. However, by the time I reached the shop floor, the person had gone. They had left a package, wrapped neatly in plain brown paper, on the counter. It wasn’t addressed so I knew it hadn’t been left by the postman which left me with the impression that I hadn’t been supposed to see the person who’d dropped it off; suggesting that they had waited for me to disappear into the back. Perhaps Edward was feeling guilty for cancelling at the last minute … but he rarely gives gifts and never so well wrapped; and for certain he would have waited to harvest every credit point on offer.

I stood gazing at the package; it surely couldn’t be from Thorndyck?

Distracted by a customer, I whipped the package away and totally forgot about it because after the initial flurry of customers, Leo walked in and insisted on giving me the blow-by-blow account of his visit to the dentist. It wasn’t until I took my lunch break that I remembered the package. I retrieved it from under the counter and sat in the back with my Panini and smoothie to open it.

“Okay; let’s take a look!”

The paper was unmarked, nothing to indicate who it was from or indeed that it was actually for me; but I assumed that it was and had guessed correctly because inside there was a neatly written card.

Dear Draycott, please forgive me for being a complete arse. It wasn’t my intention to offend you. If you can forget my error then I would be delighted if you would join me for dinner one evening. Please call the number which is printed on the reverse of this card. Yours Truly, Thorndyck Graves.

The card itself was gift enough but there were still the remaining contents of the package too; wrapped in a patterned paper which looked handmade. I was careful not to tear it because I thought it would look great framed as a picture in its own right. Inside the paper was a box and inside the box was a little white porcelain pestle and mortar accented in gold; much like the one which we have hanging above the shop door; a logo of sorts.

“Who’s that from … Edward?” asked Leo as he came in to make his cuppa soup.

“No; Thorndyck Graves.”

“Jesus! Just for serving him yesterday. Are you sure it was for you?”

“Yes, Leo, quite sure! I don’t remember you being here at the time.”

“I wasn’t … but you didn’t even know who he was!”

“So I didn’t pet and fawn over him like you would have done and maybe he appreciated that; just being treated like everyone else for a change.”

“Humpf!”

“Pretty don’t you think?”

“Very,” Leo replied with disdain and faked disinterest, adding, “What does the card say?”

“Never you mind what the card says … the question is, do I keep it or send it back?”

“What do you mean, send it back?”

“It’s way too much just for giving the man the same service which every customer should expect … and receives I might add.”

“Don’t be silly; of course you should keep it. He earns millions of dollars per movie; he can afford to be generous.”

“It’s not the cost that bothers me; it’s what it means.”

“You don’t expect to see him again do you? This is like getting a tip. He’s an actor, darling, therefore theatrical and obviously it’s a gift he’s thought about. He could have just bunged you a fiver at the time which would have been cheap.”

“Perhaps …” I replied; but I was thinking very hard. Lovers gave each other such gifts, not total strangers and I didn’t care that he was a multi-million dollar earning actor; but it was thoughtful and the card read better each time I looked at it.

“Shit!” I said to myself, “How do I play this one and what about Edward?”

The subject of exclusivity had never been discussed but there was a tacit agreement that if we met someone else - and any relationship looked like it might get serious - then we were duty bound to say something. Thorndyck did not fall into that category. If I wanted to, I could go to dinner with the man and still have a clear conscience. I wouldn’t have to say a word, unless I wanted to boast; but I had absolutely no intention of milking this one. If the man wished to buy me dinner then I would let him … and see how things stood afterwards.

Once back at home, I made myself a cuppa before calling the number printed on the back of the card.

“Yes?” The voice wasn’t Thorndyck’s. How naïve of me to think that it would have been!

“Thorndyck Graves, please.”

“You are?”

“Draycott Benson.”

“What is the nature of your call?”

“Thorndyck asked me to call him to arrange a dinner date.”

“How was the number given to you?”

“It was printed on a card which accompanied a gift I received at my place of work this morning.”

“And where is that?”

“…’Heaven Scent’ … on the Kings Road.”

“And what was the gift?”

“Excuse me?”

“What was the gift?”

“A miniature white porcelain pestle and mortar.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end and then, “You’ll forgive the twenty questions, Mr Benson; you would not believe the lengths to which some fans will go; just to get up close and personal with Thorndyck-”

“I’m not a fan.”

“Oh ... what are you then?”

“Mr Graves has invited me to dine with him by way of an apology for something.”

“Oh; well … okay; he can slot you in between eight and ten on Thursday.”

“Slot me in! I’m not trying to book the Gas Repair Man!”

Obviously the other person thought I was completely mad.

“I don’t think you quite understand just how busy Thorndyck is, Mr Benson.”

“Probably not; but this was his invitation for his appalling behaviour; this is not some favour to me. You know what? I can’t do this; so thanks all the same and could you send someone to my workplace tomorrow to pick up the gift … thanks!”

I put the phone down and took some deep breaths.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?”

I could see on the one hand that he’d probably, in haste, rattled off some basic details to an assistant and then hurried to his next interview or photo call. But if he was genuinely contrite then he should be capable of making a simple arrangement for dinner. The assistant also sounded harassed. Well so what? They worked for him … but perhaps this happened all the time and the assistant was just bored of being the match organiser. We all have choices.

The phone rang and it was from the number which I had dialled.

“Draycott-”

“Mr Benson, this is Rupert Shore; I work for Mr Graves. Apparently there was some mix up with the arrangements for dinner which we were trying to organise.”

“No mix up at all, Rupert. I can’t make dinner with Mr Graves.”

“He will be exceedingly disappointed if he is not able to see you.”

“Then very disappointed he is going to be … please tell him that I appreciate the gesture but politely request that he insults someone else next time … and please collect the gift. Thank you!”

I was half expecting the phone to ring again but it didn’t. Perhaps the message had been relayed and this over-sized Hollywood ego was struggling to process the rejection … or maybe the assistant was too afraid to tell him just yet. Either way I just wanted it to go away now.

Edward called and I let it go to the answerphone; I wasn’t ready for him either.

Chapter Three – Third time lucky?

The following day was Wednesday. Leo always has a half day on a Wednesday so he was busy with some ordering which I knew he wanted to finish before he left at one-thirty. I had the package and put it aside for collection, having (already) written, ‘For Thorndyck Graves’ on the outer wrapping in case I was absent when it was collected … if it was collected. The driver came in at about ten to one.

“Hello,” I said, smiling at him because he was a really nice man, “Have you come for the package?”

“Uhm, yes; if you’re actually sure you want to return it.”

“Absolutely positive!”

“He’s used to getting his own way.”

“I’m sure he is; but I’m used to being treated with more respect. A Neanderthal couldn’t have hashed it up any better. I take it you weren’t one of the two people I spoke to last night?”

“No; and it is a pity I wasn’t because I’m sure it would have gone very differently. I understand how this feels from your point of view. I’d ask you to make allowances but in your case you shouldn’t. I suggest you wait and see what happens.”

“Perhaps I don’t wish anything to happen. This is turning into the silliest farce; pretty soon there’ll be a movie out about our almost date!”

He laughed.

“That’s a good one,” he smiled and I smiled back, relaxing a little too much.

“Now if you were to ask me out to dinner that would be an entirely different thing.”

He paused and swallowed.

“Just wait and see what happens.”

“What is your name again by the way?” I asked.

“Elliott.”

“Thank you, Elliott; please give my regards to Thorndyck and impress upon him that it really would be far better if this was just allowed to drop.”

“I’ll certainly try.”

He left smiling and I had an unexpected and highly pleasurable sensation.

“Who was that?” Leo asked.

“Elliott, a friend …” I said aimlessly, “You off now then?”

“Yeah; see you tomorrow and remember that we’ll be closing early too; so that Jarvis can re-lay the tiles in the kitchen.”

“Yes, I’ve remembered.”

Leo left and I dusted the shelves to take my mind off of things.

The phone rang.

“Draycott-”

“Mr Benson; this is Roger Atkins. I work for Thorndyck Graves. Do you have five minutes?”

“Yes, I can speak at the moment.”

“Firstly, may I apologise for not having called you myself yesterday to make the arrangements for dinner? I placed that in the hands of a colleague who, shall we say, did not appreciate the importance of it or the sensitivity with which this matter needed to be handled. Thorndyck would be delighted if you were able to join him for dinner tomorrow evening at seven-thirty. He proposes the ‘Sir Lancelot’ and will send a car to pick you up at seven. Would such arrangements meet with your approval?”

“They would if I was interested in attending, which I am not. I told Elliott earlier that it would be far better if all concerned just dropped this; it is becoming embarrassing.”

“I understand that, Draycott, but perhaps I need to impress upon you just how keen Thorndyck is to meet you.”

“In God’s name tell me why; I’m an absolute nobody. I hadn’t even heard of him before Monday.”

“He’s …”

“Don’t tell me he’s in love with me.”

“No; smitten would be more accurate; definitely fascinated and inconsolable after he found out that you had returned the gift … please Draycott; it’s just dinner.”

“Okay … tomorrow … pick-up at seven from Battersea Park Road … for dinner at seven-thirty … ‘Sir Lancelot’s’.”

“Thank you! Call my number if you need to postpone for any reason or if you are going to be late.”

“I will … goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Chapter Four – Dinner et al

We were closing early which allowed me plenty of time to get ready for dinner. I wanted to get ready properly because even a nobody like me has heard of ‘Sir Lancelot’s’ and knows the kind of people that dine there; Hollywood movie stars being the lesser of them.

“Off out tonight?” asked Leo.

“Yes; I have a date.”

“With Edward?”

“No.”

“Who?”

“No-one you know.”

“I thought you two were steady …”

“We are but he won’t commit and I’d like to.”

“Why not just end it then?”

“Because he’s a nice guy and I like his company … and a shag twice a week is not to be sniffed at …”

“So you’ll drop him when you’ve met Mr Right?”

“Yes; just like he will me.”

“That’s so …”

“Cynical? Calculating? A little; but we all have an eye on the door, Leo, even you.”

“I’m not stringing anyone along.”

“Neither am I. I’ve asked him to move to the next level but he says he’s not ready. There’s still a chance … agreed I’m hedging my bets; but who wants to be alone?”

“Point taken; I am and it sucks!”

“Enjoy ogling Jarvis’ arse.”

“I will … have fun!”

“See you tomorrow …”

I left to get ready and seeing as I had absolutely no intention of doing anything except dining, I merely showered, shaved and donned the suit I habitually wore to smart gatherings; a white shirt and a striped tie - claret and navy blue - it looked like an old school tie, which it wasn’t.

I was ready by six-thirty and as there had been no text or call I assumed we were still on and spent the next thirty minutes finding a reasonable mental zone; suitably open and friendly. If he truly wanted to get to know me then I wasn’t going to ruin the opportunity for myself to get to know him. I wanted to show myself in the best light possible, especially given the bizarre circumstances under which all of this had fallen. And Elliott had said that I should wait and see what happened.

The door buzzer sounded at seven on the dot and I opened the door to find Elliott waiting on the other side.

“Good evening, Elliott,” I said, smiling broadly.

“Good evening, Draycott …”

Elliott opened the rear door of the Mercedes for me and I threw him a smile as I slipped into the seat.

“He’s very pleased you agreed to see him,” Elliott reported.

“Roger was very persuasive … I guess we’ll wait and see what happens.”

“Almost always the best policy …”

I was delivered to the restaurant and Elliott got out, opening the door for me.

“Enjoy your evening, Draycott.”

“Thanks; I think. I still say I’d rather have dinner with you!”

He smiled and escorted me to the restaurant door where I was met by the Maître d’hôte.

“Good evening sir; which party are you with?”

“Thorndyck Graves’.”

“Very good … please follow me.”

He walked through the restaurant, which was half full and quietly buzzing, to a separate dining room. He opened the door and waved me in.

“Thank you,” I said.

There was a circular table in the middle of the room at which Thorndyck and two other men were seated; one of whom looked like personal security and the other looking like his accountant.

“Draycott!” boomed Thorndyck.

I advanced.

“Good evening, Thorndyck.”

“Draycott, can I introduce Pierre, my publicist and Michael, my personal assistant?”

“Good evening,” I said.

They merely nodded.

“Please sit down,” Thorndyck said, waving to the waiter who was hovering beside the table, waiting to pour me a glass of champagne, “I’m so pleased you were able to join me tonight …”

‘Me’ and not ‘Us’; did that mean they were leaving or that I should just ignore them?

“Are Pierre and Michael joining us?” I asked.

Thorndyck gave me a look which read “You didn’t seriously think I’d dine with you alone, did you?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied.

“So if, like you say, you want to get to know me better and if, for example, you ask me a very personal question, perhaps even an intimate one, you expect me to give you a full and frank answer in front of these two gentlemen; neither of whom I have met before?”

“Rest assured that whatever is said in this room goes nowhere; Pierre and Michael can be relied upon for their absolute discretion in all matters.”

“Forgive me for asking this but why do they need to be here at all?”

“Well, to be frank, Draycott, Pierre is here to ensure that everything I say is recorded correctly, to avoid the possibility of anything being misinterpreted or misquoted; and Michael is here for my protection. I wish it wasn’t necessary but after an incident in New York not so long ago we feel it is prudent.”

“I see … I wish it wasn’t necessary either. Thanks for the champagne. I really would appreciate it if you would not contact me again.”

“Are you leaving?” Thorndyck asked, completely agog.

“Yes!”

Pierre responded.

“You are being uncommonly naïve and short-sighted, Draycott.”

“How so?”

“After this evening, the relationship could develop … become serious.”

“After I walk through that door this relationship ends.”

I left the room and the three of them in stunned silence. The Maître d’hôte looked bemused when I re-appeared in the main restaurant.

“Is there something wrong sir?” he asked with genuine concern.

“Apparently I was not who Mr Graves was expecting.”

“But you are Draycott Benson?”

“Yes.”

“So you are the person I was informed to expect?”

“Perhaps I should have said that I am not the kind of person that Mr Graves was expecting. In any event can you tell me how much a glass of the champagne is?”

“Uhm … fifteen pounds.”

“Here’s twenty; please deduct it from his bill and make sure he knows that I paid for my own drink.”

“Sir?” He looked confused and worried.

“It’s absolutely fine … goodbye.”

I left, releasing a heavy breath and casting my eyes in both directions to see where the bus stop was located. I caught sight of Elliott waiting across the road, leaning up against the car and smoking a cigarette. I wandered over to him.

“When you said that I should wait and see did you mean wait and see how much more stupid and uncomfortable he was going to make me feel?”

“Pierre and Michael stayed?”

“Yes.”

“Idiot! Him, not you. He’ll never learn; I can’t take you back because I imagine they will make an appearance very soon.”

“Don’t worry; I think I need to walk for a while. I would like it very much if you were to call me though.”

“It would be very difficult.”

“Well, if you can, please do; but if you can’t then thanks … and goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Draycott …”

I walked swiftly away; turning the corner as soon as I could so that if the men left behind in the restaurant did emerge they would not catch sight of me. As soon as I was out of harm’s way, I grabbed a bus and headed home, feeling absolutely wretched and very tired. I switched the phone off and went to bed early.

Chapter Five – A last ditched attempt

Friday is always a busy day so I submerged myself in it and spent the largest part cleaning up after Jarvis.

“How was your date then?” asked Leo.

“Abysmal.”

“Oh; unlike you to pick a wrong ‘un.”

“On this occasion let’s just say that my charitable side overcame my instinct to say ‘no’ upfront; it won’t be happening again.”

“Edward still the front runner then?”

“Yes; very definitely!”

I remembered that my phone was still switched off so at coffee time I switched it back on. I had a message from Edward demanding to know why I hadn’t called on Thursday evening and I had a message from Pierre asking me to call him. I barred Roger’s and Pierre’s numbers and called Edward.

“Were you out last night?” he asked.

“Yes; I met a friend for a drink … we didn’t have a date planned.”

“I know that; I just thought you might have called.”

“Why? It isn’t your birthday and we’re seeing each other tonight. Why all the fuss all of a sudden?”

“I guess I was missing you.”

“Well, we’re going out tonight.”

“Yes; I know and I’m really looking forward to seeing you. I’ll be round at seven-thirty.”

“Okay.”

I deleted the message from Pierre and cleared my call logs, knowing it was probably too much to hope for that Elliott would call. Edward it was then; another perfect date with an acceptable fuck at the end of it; a wake-up kiss, coffee and leave. Perhaps I should count myself lucky to have that much.

At three o’clock, a courier arrived with an envelope for me. It contained two tickets to the premiere of Thorndyck’s latest film; the reason for him being in London in fact. I shredded them.

At five-thirty I left and went home to get ready for my evening with Edward. Elliott was outside, without the car. He was dressed casually; evidently off duty.

“Hi,” he said very sweetly.

“Hi … day off?”

“Evening off …”

“Not going to the premiere then?”

“No; are you?”

“No! I shredded the tickets.”

He chuckled.

“Oh my God; you do realise he’ll be keeping watch on those seats; to make sure you’re sat in one of them?”

“He’ll be disappointed then won’t he!? So why are you here?”

“You said you’d rather have dinner with me.”

“You said it would be difficult.”

“It will be; if he finds out then he’ll accuse me of being disloyal and probably fire me.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t then. I don’t want you to lose your job.”

“Why? Aren’t you worth it?”

“I guess that depends on how good your job is and how much you want to keep it.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

“Well, I need to cancel a date; so I’m risking something too; although admittedly it’s not something nearly so important as a job.”

“You’d cancel a date to go out with me?”

“Yes … if you’re sure?”

“Absolutely positive …”

“Okay; give me five minutes …”

I walked a little way along the pavement to be out of the earshot of Elliott. I called Edward.

“Hey, anything wrong?” he asked.

“Not exactly; but I have to cancel tonight-”

“Oh; why?”

“I’ve met the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with …”

The Carter Seagrove Project is the creative workspace of authors Alp Mortal and Chambers Mars.

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Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Chapter One – Seriously?

Chapter Two – Unwanted gifts

Chapter Three – Third time lucky?

Chapter Four – Dinner et al

Chapter Five – A last ditched attempt