Free Picture Imperfect by Nicola Yeager Page A

Selfridge’s food
department yesterday afternoon.’
    ‘What, you mean you picked him up in Selfridge’s?’
    ‘Yesterday afternoon. Does that sound terribly awful?
He was browsing near the Italian deli section. Do you know it? I bought some of
their truffle sauce and this is a trick you may like to remember, Chloe, I
asked him if he’d ever had any and he hadn’t so I asked him if he’d like to
smell it and you know what truffle sauce smells like and after that he was
hooked. I’d landed him like a forty pound salmon, which reminds me they sell
fabulous smoked salmon there, too. Also, that’s a pretty poor metaphor as you can’t
bonk a salmon, really, can you. Unless you’re another salmon and even then I’m
not sure that’s what they do.’
    ‘What is that perfume you’re wearing?’
    ‘Well, it’s still technically Tuesday, so it must be
Tom Ford Jasmin Rouge.’
    ‘It smells fabulous.’
    ‘Here.’
    She takes a deep red perfume spray out of her handbag
and squirts me on the wrists and on the neck. It’s a fantastic, voluptuous
smell that actually makes me feel slightly dizzy for a few seconds. So this is
what it smells like to be rich, I think. God know the effect this stuff must
have on a man. They’d want to die in it.
    ‘It’s lovely. I mean, it’s fantastic.’
    ‘Oh my good god you’ve just reminded me.’
    She fishes in her handbag and pulls out a Selfridge’s
carrier bag.
    ‘Here. This is the truffle sauce. You can have it.’
    I take the bag and put it in the fridge. Posh perfume,
truffle sauce and it’s not even nine-o-clock in the morning yet. I’ve still got
to find out why it’s still Tuesday for Rhoda. Luckily, she’s not one of those
people you have to push hard for information of that sort.
    ‘So we went shopping together and it was obvious we
were getting on like a house on fire, particularly after I bought him a
Burberry sports watch. I could see he couldn’t take his eyes off me or off my
tits at least, so I thought why not cut to the chase and book into a hotel
right now. Of course most of the good hotels in the West End are booked solid
at this time of year particularly if you want a room at short notice…’
    ‘Why didn’t you go back to your place?’
    ‘Even if I could have got a cab immediately, it would
have taken forty, fifty minutes at that time of day and I didn’t want to spoil
the magic and then it hit me; we’d only been in Selfridge’s less than an hour
ago possibly and there’s Selfridge’s hotel. We were in Piccadilly, so you could
walk to it in about ten minutes or so. It turns out it’s actually called The
Selfridge which I didn’t know did you?   So I rang them and booked a room and they had quite a few free which surprised
me, but you realise why once you get inside. All very nice but a bit on the
small side, you know? Not that that really mattered. At least the room had a
bath and lots of free things. And a bed, of course.’
    Bending slightly under this gale force hedonism, I
realise that I’m still in the dark about why Rhoda is actually here in the
first place. She rummages around in her bag. Perhaps she’s looking for more
truffle sauce. I notice that the kitchen smells strongly of it and can’t wait
to see what it tastes like. I see what she means about the smell. The kitchen
smells like people have been having sex in it, which unfortunately has never
happened in real life.
    ‘So anyway. Room service,
Champagne, bonking until seven or eight, then dinner in the hotel restaurant
which was surprisingly good considering the things I’d heard about it from
other people. Romantic walk around the West End, then we went to this bar in St
Christopher’s Place. Did you know that amber place is still there? After all these years? It’s still there? I mean – who buys
amber? Ghastly, vulgar stuff.   Anyway, staggered back to the hotel for a bit
more bonking then I had a lovely long soak in the bath, which believe you me I
needed by that