Jasmine lay face down sprawled comfortably on the double bed. The sun shone brightly through the window falling onto her skin highlighting the delicate blushes that spread from her shoulders across her body and down to the socks she still wore on her feet. The rabbits depicted there had made Beaver laugh.
“Most appropriate,” he had said, and hugged her tightly to his strong wiry body.
And then, for the next hour, he had shown Jasmine exactly why the socks were so appropriate until she glowed from head to toe and promised she would never ever wear any other socks again.
And, in return, Jasmine had excelled herself in finding new ways to make his soft brown eyes moisten into deeper and deeper pools of desire and his deep voice cry out with pleasure.
He now lay on his side by Jasmine, tracing a fingertip gently from her neck to the back of her knees. Every time he reached the end of his journey, he was rewarded by a shudder of delight that rippled like an earthquake across Jasmine’s soft flesh.
“How on earth did you find out about this place,” said Beaver. “It’s great.”
“I have a friend,” said Jasmine, dreamily. “Well he’s not exactly a friend, more an employer. In fact ‘friend’ is definitely not the word I would use.”
“How can he be a friend but not a friend,” said Beaver.
“He must be a friend, I suppose, in a way,” said Jasmine, “because he told me about this place. But the things that he does show a ruthlessness that I don’t like and I definitely wouldn’t like to upset him.”
“Well if he ever gives you a hard time,” said Beaver, “just tell him that there’s somebody who’s completely devoted to you and they’d better watch out or else I’ll be around to sort them out.”
Jasmine turned on one elbow, facing Beaver and gazed softly into his eyes. “You wouldn’t stand a chance, even Rod is not in their league. You just have absolutely no idea.”
Beaver suddenly saw a tear in the corner of her eye.
“I can’t bear the idea of anybody hurting you,” he said, emotionally.
“Nobody’s going to hurt me,” said Jasmine. “As long as I do what they want, only good things will happen - to me at least.”
Beaver traced the line of her forehead pushing back a lock of her silky hair behind her ear. “You’re implying that unpleasant things will happen to others,” he said.
“It’s much more complicated than that,” said Jasmine, “it’s almost like a way of life, not an employment. When you and I met the other day, you said you needed somewhere to stay so that we could spend time together. I didn’t know what to do so after a while I thought of asking my employer. He suggested we come here. All we have to do is smile nicely at the neighbours and if anybody turns up saying they are the owner we have to say that we to been sent here by Mike whoever he is and ring this number. That’s it. We get to stay here for free in return for being, sort of, care takers and watching out for these people returning.”
Beaver played with the mobile phone that was never far from Jasmine side.
“It’s a nice bit of kit,” he said. “It would fetch quite a bit down the market, we could sell it and get some more gear to replace the stuff that Rod ripped off. I still feel really bad about that - he had no right.”
“Yeah, but Rod’s like that,” said Jasmine. “You see something he wants and he’s like a child, he just has to have it. He knew you had the gear and couldn’t see anything to stop him taking it off your - so he did. He’s just a bully, really.”
“I wish you didn’t have to go back to him tonight,” said Beaver.
“I wish, too,” said Jasmine. “But the guy I work for was very insistent, saying that finding you a place didn’t mean that I could move in with you. He wants me to stay with Rod for the time being.”
“It sounds as a of the he’s ruling your life as well as giving you work. I don’t know if I would like that,” said Beaver.
“If you were working for him too,” to Jasmine, “he wouldn’t necessarily have a choice.”
“The fact remains that without a stash, I haven’t got a business,” Beaver grumbled.
Jasmine was suddenly very still. She looked at Beaver, strangely and seriously.
“I have a job to do,” she said. “I asked if I could take you along and he said yes I could. But I don’t know whether I want to get you involved in this. I often wish I wasn’t involved. Perhaps by going along with me, you would be drawn in.”
“You make it all sound so mysterious, how could I say no,” said Beaver, laughing.
“In?” said Jasmine.
“In,” said Beaver.
Jasmine reached over to the small rucksack she used as a handbag and pulled out a bundle of notes. Beavers eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
“There’s 5,000 here,” said Jasmine quietly. “All we have to do is to order some more stash for you and some other stuff.”
“But, that amount of bread means I’d have to go to a main dealer.”
Jasmine set up on the bed and folded her arms across her chest. The sun had gone down and the room was becoming colder. Her voice was no longer warm and loving. It became hard.
“With this amount of bread, and there is more where that came from, you could become a main dealer.”
Beaver looked at her in astonishment.
“In,” he said, enthusiastically.
As they wandered down the path away from the house, the next-door neighbour, a white haired pensioner, smiled kindly at them.
“Were looking after the place for Mike,” said Jasmine, smiling sweetly.
“A lovely couple, my dear,” said the old lady.
Jasmine smiled again, not sure whether the old women was referring to Mike or to themselves.
At the station, Jasmine telephoned a number that was stored in the memory of her mobile phone and arranged a meeting.
Beaver grumbled. “I don’t know why we have to go all the way into the centre of London,” he said. “I’m sure we could get the stuff locally.”
“One thing I have learnt with these people is that you follow instructions exactly or rue the consequences,” said Jasmine, firmly. On the way to the station, she had dropped into a boutique and now wore a white trouser suit. She had also insisted that Beaver bought a pair of trousers to wear instead of his habitual jeans and also a brown leather jacket.
“To match your lovely brown eyes,” she said sweetly, when he complained.
The address to which they went was in Notting Hill in an old white fronted Victorian terraced building. The door was opened by a young woman in his her ’20s who asked if they had an appointment and with whom. She then directed them to the fourth floor, giving them the choice of the stairs or a rickety lift. They took the stairs and the echoes of their footsteps rattled against the walls.
One floor later, Beaver whispered to Jasmine:
“She was a bit dressed up for three o’clock in the afternoon, wasn’t she?”
“It depends on what she was going to do,” said Jasmine, wryly.
Beaver looked after, puzzled. “That low cut dress was not exactly standard work gear and you won’t wear it to do the housekeeping.
“Beaver,” said Jasmine, exasperatedly. “Isn’t it obvious? Think of where we are!”
“Ooh!” Beaver looked back down the stairs, with a new interest.
Jasmine knocked three times on the large wooden door at the top the stairs. Another woman who was also wearing a long low cut dress opened the door and seemed to be expecting them.
“Would you come this way, please,” she said.
She led them down a long corridor with a soft carpet down his centre and shiny wood block at its edges and then held open the door for them to enter.
A man wearing a smart but casual suit of light grey sat behind one of the largest desks that Jasmine had ever seen. He came around the desk to shake their hands and Jasmine made the introductions.
“I’m Jasmine and this is Beaver.” The man didn’t ask for surnames.
“Mr C.”
“You came highly recommended,” said Jasmine, levelly.
Mr C. gave a short, sharp, irritated laugh.
“Normally it is I that seek the recommendations,” he said. “Unless you also come highly recommended, then we can call an end to this conversation.” He narrowed his eyes that Jasmine noticed were already extremely small so that they were almost out of sight. Suddenly Jasmine had the strong urge to reach forward and pull at his perfect hair. She was sure that it was a wig. Beaver was becoming restless but Jasmine laid a restraining hand on his arm.
“You control all sales in Division 23,” said Jasmine, coolly. “You were recommended by the Head of one of the other Divisions, Im not going to say which one. It wouldn’t help, of course, because you do not know their names.”
“You have already said enough, my dear,” said of Mr C. “For me to press this little white button here and in a very short length of time you and your friend would disappear, permanently.”
“But of course you won’t,” said Jasmine, “because you know that for me to know of the existence of the divisions means that I am already well connected.”
Mr C. gazed at her intently and then at Beaver.
“And you,” he said. “How do you fit into this?”
“He’s my Technical Officer,” said Jasmine. “If we could stop all this messing about, perhaps you could pass Beaver to your Technical Officer so he can discuss the detail. It would save both of us a lot of time.”
“And your deposit?”
Jasmine slowly reached inside the smart brown briefcase. Mr C. tensed, his finger stretching slightly towards the white button. Jasmine laughed and threw the 5,000 bundle of notes across the table to Mr C.
He riffled through the notes and then tossed them casually in the drawer. He must have pressed an unseen button somewhere because a door opened it in the side of the room and a young man emerged wearing a shirt, suit trousers and a clipboard.
Mr C. turned to him:
“Would you take this gentleman next door and take his order for?”
Jasmine handed over the list.
The young man took it completely in his stride but Jasmine saw Mr C.’s mouth form into a soundless moue.
“What are you going to do with the armaments? Start a war?” Jasmine could see he was impressed.
“A man for the men,” thought Jasmine, at once. “I won’t be able to wrap him around of my finger - of course Beaver might have more success, if I wanted to share him, which of course I don’t.” This latter thought made her feel good.
The door closed behind Beaver and the young salesman.
Jasmine addressed Mr C. again.
“I will be looking for the same quantity again next month.”
Mr C.’s mouth was again forming itself into a perfect oh.”
“And may I ask where you are going to sell the drugs?”
“We are linked into a national organisation that can bring the product to a particular segment of the population by age grouping.”
“You wouldn’t consider mentioning the age group or the name of the national organisation, I suppose,” said Mr C.
“Of course… I wouldn’t consider that,” said Jasmine.
The smart young executive opened the side door again and Beaver ambled back to join Jasmine.
“Have they got what we need,” said Jasmine.
“Yeh,” said Beaver. “Some of its a bit pricey. But they are quoting two weeks delivery.”
Jasmine turned to Mr C.
“I would be in contact within the next week about making the arrangements for hand-over.”
“We have procedures,” said Mr C.
“So do we!” said Jasmine, firmly.
They shook hands; Mr C. was almost jovial. Jasmine smiled her sweetest smile and Beaver tried to look cool but didn’t really succeed.
Once outside, by tacit mutual agreement, they didn’t talk. It was only when they had crossed Kensington Gardens and were sure they had not been followed that Beaver turned to Jasmine with his eyes full of questions.
“Either I don’t know you at all or an awful lot of that was pure baloney.”
Jasmine heaved a long shuddering sigh, suddenly releasing a backlog of hidden nervous tension.
“I just recited the script,” she said. “It was pre-planned right down to the list of drugs I gave you to order. It was what they told me to say and as you know in this game, its best to do as you are told. I have no doubt that the money will be available if it is needed. But also it’s possible that the people I am working for may be playing a deeper game.”
Beaver smiled. “You know, although we just bought a warehouse of drugs, we don’t even have a smoke for this evening.”
Jasmine wrapped her arm around Beavers and hugged him to her. “It’s funny,” she said, “I feel so good being with you that I don’t really need it.”
Beaver hugged her back and said:
“It might seem strange, but in all the hours we have spent together, we’ve never been out on a proper date. We’ve never gone to a restaurant and eaten together. We’ve never been to a disco for a dance and we’ve never walked hand-in-hand later in the evening afterwards.”
He turned to Jasmine, seriously.
“I’d like us to go out tonight, together… would you like that?”
“I would just love that,” said Jasmine, kissing him. “I had some money in advance for this job and since we’re doing it together, I think we deserve a night out on expenses.”
“Deal,” said Beaver, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.
Jasmine kissed him again, hugged him to her and tried to forget that at the end of the evening she would have to go home to Rod and that he wouldnt be pleased shed been out so long.
