1982 Janine Read Free

draw attention to them. Remember those wives and kids; I have told them I might get them the director of Caught in Barbed Wire , and that she’s a very discreet lady.”
    â€œBut I never directed –”
    â€œOf course you never directed it but they don’t know that. The director’s name didn’t appear on the credits because there are no credits. Come to the office at three this afternoon and meet the club manager. If he likes you he’ll take you to look the place over.”
    â€œHm … How should I dress for him?”
    He tells her. She says, “No professional director dresses like that!”
    â€œHoney, I told you, these guys know nothing about showbiz. Dress like that and they’ll be too busy looking to ask questions.”
    â€œThe set-up stinks, Charlie.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Janine, I’ll find someone else,” and he hangs up. 
    Â Â Â 
    Broads. Real smooth routines. Honey. This set-up stinks. These people are American. Years out of date, perhaps, but American. I can’t help it. Seen from Selkirk America is a land of endless pornographic possibility. Is that because it’s the world’s richest nation? No. There is less poverty and more sexual freedom in Scandinavia and Holland. It’s because my most precious fantasies have been American, from Cowboys and Indians and Tarzan till … The Dirty Dozen? Apocalypse Now ? I forget when I stopped needing new ones.
    â€œDon’t worry, Janine, I’ll find someone else,” and he hangs up. She dials back at once but the line is engaged. She dials repeatedly for three minutes and gets him at last. She says, “Charlie, I said the set-up stinks, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested. For money like that of course I’m interested!”
    â€œGlad to hear it. You’re in luck. I’ve been trying to get Wanda Neuman but she’s out. All right, be here at eleven.”

    8 CLOTHES THAT ARE BONDAGE   
    â€œCharlie, you mentioned a millionaire.”
    â€œThat’s right. The club has a couple of them, so dress like I said.”
    â€œWhat do they call this club?”
    But again he has hung up. 
    Â Â Â 
    Four hours later Janine is worried and trying not to show it but her voice is husky when she says, “My agent told me to dress this way.”
    â€œYour agent reads Hollis like a book.”
    But Janine is not (here come the clothes) happy with the white silk shirt shaped by the way it hangs from her etcetera I mean BREASTS, silk shirt not quite reaching the thick harness-leather belt which is not holding up the miniskirt but hangs in the loops round the waistband of the white suede miniskirt supported by her hips and unbuttoned as high as the top of the black fishnet stockings whose mesh is wide enough to insert three fingers I HATED clothes when I was young. My mother made me wear far too many of them, mostly jackets and coats. When I complained that I was too hot she said the weather could change any moment and she wasn’t going to have me off school with a bad cold. I had three classes of suit. The best suit, the newest, was for Sunday and for visiting relations. The second-best suit was for going to school. The third was for “playing rough games”. Yes, she expected me to play games, but I had to come home and change into my oldest suit first, and that was often too small to run about in comfortably. Of course when you’re a child most games happen on the way home from school or in the playground, so this clothing programme reduced my social opportunities. We lived in a mining town where a lot of boys wore dungarees to school and could play when they liked. I envied them. In summertime some of them didn’t even go home after school but rambled in gangs through the surrounding country, fishing and tree climbing, getting into trouble with farmers and coming home at sunset to grab their own supper of