Free Bums on Seats by Tom Davies

sort of student-friendly?” She emptied the last of the carafe into her glass.
    â€œWell, sort of. We should perhaps target one country first and liaise with their Ministry of Education. We could, say, establish joint committees to oversee all those things that, although important, sometimes hinder education. And, of course, in so doing inhibit our income,” he added in a moment of inspiration.
    â€œBrilliant, Simon, you mean really get some focus on fundamentals and beat the market, so to speak. Where would you start?”
    â€œWell, we have a post-grad student from Zombek who’s forward-looking and well connected at home. If I had approval, I could start to take soundings. Mind you, he’s only here for another year, so we’d need to move swiftly to take advantage of that.” He mentally breathed out and reached for a piece of pizza, but the waiter was already heading for the kitchen with the empty pans.
    â€œSounds a good prospect. Put the idea to your focus group. Go for it!”
    â€œI’ll judge the mood of the meeting. I don’t know who’ll chair it. That might be crucial.”
    Sally seemed to lose interest at that point and the conversation drifted into general university chit-chat. After a while she said, “Shan’t be a minute, just going to repair my face. Look, are you doing anything for an hour? I have to find a suitable dress for a function. Stuart wants me to look the part and I’d value the comments of a male.” His left knee, regrettably, became untrapped and she wafted away.
    Bliss, he would have her company for another hour. Re-festooned with parcels, Simon began a short tour of exotic little boutiques he would never normally have noticed. She took his arm en route and gave the impression of being protected from the attentions of any passing thug. At one shop he sat at a little corner table with a pot of tea. She flitted in and out between curtains in a succession of creations. “What do think of this? How would that appear at a semi-formal dinner? Do you feel this is too…?” He tried to be helpful and imaginative in his assessments. But he felt she was sensational in everything.
    She settled on what he would have described as a flimsy black bodice with no shoulders to it, held up by thin straps that met behind her neck. He helped with the last inch of the zip in the middle of her back. Sally glided to and fro in a corner with three mirrors at angles. He perspired and experienced familiar stirrings. God, it was like attending a personal strip show, delightful but embarrassing. Fortunately, she bought it and ended the performance. He heard the manageress say, “Two hundred and fifty pounds.” Sally emerged from the curtains dressed in street clothes and shared his burden by carrying the new parcel as they strolled back along the busy concourse.
    â€œWhere’s your car, Sally?”
    â€œI came by taxi.”
    â€œCan I give you a ride home?”
    â€œLovely, can you spare the time?” They synchronised movements and stepped side by side onto the ‘down’ escalator.
    â€œOf course, you only live ten minutes from me and it’s a pleasure.” She smiled and squeezed his arm. A strange thing happened. Simon looked across at the ‘up’ escalator and saw Luke Nweewe passing. Although he’d obviously seen them he gave no sign. Sally appeared oblivious. Perhaps she didn’t know him? Perhaps Luke thought that he, Simon, was having an illicit assignation and, thus, sparing him the embarrassment of recognition? The moment passed.
    The parcels just about filled the back seat. She fitted comfortably into the front. Simon went around and entered as usual by stepping over the side. He reached across to the glove box and gave her a headscarf. Sally smiled sweetly, knotted the scarf under her chin and clipped home the seat belt. His eyes dropped to the belt and continued near to the limits of their