A Hot Spicy
Evening
by Jilliana
Ranicar-Breese
It was around
1972 and I was living at #2 Warwick Mansions in
South End Green, Hampstead above the famous
Prompt Corner cafe where people played chess on
the clock. At one time George Orwell penned his 'Animal
Farm' there drinking coffee no doubt and owned
the original 'Prompt Corner' bookshop before it
became a cafe in 1950.
My landlord was Brian Sewell who in turn had an
older friend called Wendy Charnel who favoured
toy boys and told me I was not old enough to
fancy young men! I always fancied older mature
men probably looking for a father figure.
One fine day she introduced me to an older man
called Harcourt. An actor who was tall, black and
handsome with a rich cultured Caribbean voice
from Aruba. I had never come across the island
before but decades later would stop off there for
a day on a cruise and photograph the colourful
Dutch gables of the pastel shaded buildings.
Harcourt immediately invited me for dinner and we
arranged to meet outside the Dominion theatre on
Tottenham Court Road at 7.00 pm on the dot. Easy
for me as I was a travel agent working for Global
Tours close by in Oxford Street.
I was very surprised when he cruised by in his
beat up car and hollowed to me to get in only
stopping for a moment. His plan turned out to
lure me to his lair in Hampstead Village and no
doubt try and seduce me after a candlelit dinner.
I said nothing but was very disappointed that he
was taking me for granted. I knew, however, that
I was not going to succumb to his advances and be
seduced. No way Jose!
The room was like a theatre set. Candlelit, a red
tablecloth, a circular table set for two with
wine glasses and a bottle of red Barolo wine plus
'Take Five' Brubeck music playing unobtrusively
in the background.
Harcourt vanished into his minuscule kitchenette
to check his masterpiece, a chicken hotpot to be
served in a heavy orange Le Creuset casserole
with accompanying white yams in another orange
oven-to-table pot. Everything was set to be
perfect, so the idiot man thought.
It was certainly a night to remember. Harcourt
smiled knowingly, his white Draconian teeth
gleaming as he served me pieces of chicken cut on
the bone presumably to suck. I had never seen
this cut before but was later to come across
decades later in Morocco.
The heat from the chilli erupted. Never had I had
spicy food with chilli before. Mon Dieu I was
British from provincial Liverpool and used to
bland food! I had never even had a Vindaloo. Here
was another food culture I had never experienced.
I clutched my throat and gasped with the fire. I
fell from the chair onto the floor choking.
'Water, water!' I screamed
now clutching my chest.
How could I know that water would intensify the
heat in my gullet? He didn't know what to do
either. He raced into the kitchenette like a
madman for water to calm a hysterical, hungry me
down.
Time passed, Brubeck unaware of the seduction
scene gone wrong, played on to the strains of 'Take
the 'A' train'. An ashamed Harcourt meekly
offered me bland boring yams which I thankfully
wolfed down. The heat of the moment had
gone, food wise and any other wise!
I couldn't wait to get back to the calm of my
exotic Brazilian and Moroccan fusion purple and
turquoise womb like draped bedroom and the purr
of my pussy, my adorable tabby Sesame. Harcourt
obliged and we left silently in haste. Silence
reigned in the car as there was nothing to say.
The show was over and I did not invite him back
to my boudoir to show him my pussy!
I wonder if he made a milder curry for his next
victim!
Written
on the Easyjet flight to Rhodes for Greek and
Christian/Catholic Easter coinciding for the
first time in 6 years. 15/4/17. Reading
time is 5 minutes.
References
Prompt Corner Cafe - The Spectator 23/5/1983
George Orwell founded the original 'Prompt Corner'
bookshop which in 1950 became the cafe.
Dominion theatre
Wikipedia - Package Tour - Global Tours - Mass
Tourism
Wikipedia - Take Five by Brubeck
Wikipedia - Take the 'A' train
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