GOLD-DIGGER
“Forgive me for asking, but why do all these people want to see you?”
It was a fair question. Jill had her eyes set on John Cummings for a while because of the information she had gotten about him. He was supposed to be one of the best hypnotists in the world, but now, after seeing his act, she wondered why they said that.
“You don’t know much about hypnotism, do you?” was his amused reply.
“Well, I have researched it after I first met you,” she lied. She had researched it as soon as she knew he was a potential target, “and I know something of what hypnotism can do. To be honest, out of all the hypnotism acts I’ve seen, I wouldn’t place you at or near the top of that list. But, look at your audience here. I recognise some of them as people who have successful hypnosis acts and they seem riveted. I don’t understand it. I even paid for a number of hypnotists to hypnotise me because I wanted to see what it felt like, but nothing happened with any of them. Each one told me I was one of the few who couldn’t be hypnotised.”
He looked at her. She had already told him she was forty, but she looked at least ten years younger and was dressed in a young sexy fashion, which she pulled off. He wanted her.
“You told me before you love guitarists. Have you heard of Bert Jansch?”
She looked puzzled. “No. Should I have?”
“Well, I think you should have if you love guitarists.” He looked at her puzzled face and expanded his statement. “Bert Jansch was referred to as the guitarist’s guitarist. He made a living at it, but was never a ‘star’.” You could hear the inverted commas over the word ‘star’. “Guitarists and music lovers from all over the world thought he was magnificent, and he was. But his music and style just didn’t stir the vast unwashed. Guitarists loved how he played and a lot of the names you know and love tried, with various success, to emulate his style. The more successful of them adapted his style and his music into their own repertoires.” He checked she was following him. “In the same way, I’m considered to be a hypnotist’s hypnotist. I do it for the love of hypnotism and not particularly to please the crowds. For instance, you saw my act tonight. I bet you think it was boring and stale. I assure you it wasn’t. In fact, I hypnotised people that the vast majority of stage hypnotists, or any hypnotists for that matter, can’t hypnotise. Did you know that it’s generally believed that about twenty percent of people can’t be hypnotised? I believe I can hypnotise anybody, but, to be fair, I haven’t tried to prove my beliefs. From my own career I can definitely say I can hypnotise at least ninety nine percent of the population, assuming they are willing, that is. Under certain circumstances, I can also hypnotise people without them knowing what is happening.” He smiled at her to dampen this unseemly boasting.
“You mean you’re so good I don’t have the knowledge to judge your performance?”
His smile broadened. “Exactly. And that’s not to disparage you either. Most people just aren’t interested.”
“But what about money? Surely it would be so much easier for you to create a popular act? Then you could make much more money.”
“It’s not about money. It’s the thrill of pitting my skills against the difficult challenges on stage in front of an audience that makes me keep on doing this. If an audience doesn’t approve of my act, they can go elsewhere. But, enough of the cognoscenti have enough knowledge to appreciate me and I make enough money for my purposes.” He was watching her closely as he said this and he caught the moment she dismissed him as a wasted evening. He then saw her decide to just enjoy the evening and hunt for bigger fish later.
“You know, I researched you as well as you researching me. And what I found was interesting.”
She looked him in the eye. “Oh yes? What about me is interesting? I don’t think I’m interesting at all.”
“Well, you’ve just buried your fourth husband. Even in this day and age that’s unusual.”
She tilted her head and gave him a half smile. “Oh yes? What’s so interesting about that?”
“Well, all your husbands were very old, and they all left you the bulk of their money in their wills.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I did away with them?”
“No, not at all. In fact I can’t find anything you did wrong, legally.” He smiled as he said this.
That smile relaxed her again. “Just for the record, I was faithful to each of my husbands. Not one of them had anything bad to say about me. And if they were all here now, they would still say the same.”
“Oh, I believe you. I really do. You are a gold-digger though, but one of the nicer ones.”
She made a face. “I don’t really like that term.”
“But it is accurate. You seduce and marry old men for their money, then stay with them as a loving, contientious and monogamous wife until they die. And have a good time waiting for that event.”
She thought about that statement before answering. She remembered researching the subject and, on the basis of that research, she had her breasts reduced from their natural DD to a more appropriate B cup. Her research informed her, counterintuitively to her mind, that most elder people went for women with smaller breasts. That operation was well worth the sacrifice.
“You could put it that way. But my husbands all had a good time with me. I never did anything to hurt them. Nothing at all. In fact, I made them all happy.”
“I believe you.”
She sighed. “Is this leading somewhere?”
He smiled. “I just want you to know what I know because I have a proposition for you.”
She looked interested. “What proposition?”
“Well, I can confirm you will be a difficult subject, consequently, I want the opportunity to try and hypnotise you. But, I’m going away to Rome tomorrow morning. So, my proposition is basically a bet. I’ll pay for you to come with me to Rome tomorrow, give you a good time and buy one or two expensive items for you in Italy if you’ll let me try and hypnotise you during the, well, it’ll be a holiday for you. I need to work one afternoon, but that leaves us two days and nights totally free. And, I won’t even try to have sex with you unless you specifically ask me.” He looked her square in her eyes. “How about it?”
“When did you come up with that?”
“Just now. Literally. I tend to be a tad impulsive.”
“And what do you get if you win?”
“Your co-operation as a sex partner for me during that stay. You’ll like it at the time, I will ensure that, but you’ll remember some things most women wouldn’t ever consent to.”
She smiled at him. “All right then. I accept.” She thought she was onto a winner here. Just a few days and a couple of expensive presents to show for her time. Her story about those hypnotists not being able to hypnotise her was true. In fact, she never even came close to being hypnotised. Consequently she was confident she could resist this old hypnotist who had a good line in patter.”
Jill returned home a few days later complete with her new fur coat, her new Louboutins and her new ruby necklace. Unlike her business colleagues, she didn’t care for diamonds, although they were a good second best in a pinch. They were easy to sell, after all.
She had kissed her new friend goodbye in his car when he returned her to her flat and never expected to see him again. Her flat felt cold when she entered, but she had turned the heating off during her few days away and it was winter. She waltzed around her living room in her new fur coat before putting it carefully away. The same for her new Louboutins and her new necklace. All in all, she estimated he had spent over £9,000 on her. Not bad for a three day excursion.
Sitting in her, now, heated room, she reflected on her performance and was pleased with it. Her contentment was enhanced when she recalled she had not made a fool of him. He had her full and undivided attention during the whole stay, apart from the afternoon he went away for business reasons. She prided herself on that. She simply didn’t con anyone and she certainly didn’t con John. He had set the rules; she had agreed and stuck to them. She was his perfect monogamous companion for the whole break.
She went to bed alone and happy, but she had the strangest dream. She relived her trip to Rome. Meeting him, going to the airport, the first class travel all the way. The trip was longer than she expected. In her dream she knew this flight was taking way too long, but she didn’t bother about it. They eventually landed and he escorted her to their hotel, where she was introduced to the managing director of the hotel. She said hello and then everything changed. She wasn’t in a hotel, but at some dusty and weather-beaten office somewhere. Strangely, she wasn’t perturbed by this, she just carried on with events as if they were quite normal, even when she could see nothing but scrubland out of a window. After a few words with John, the managing director grabbed her arm and, unceremoniously, walked her away to what turned out to be a barracks.
There he told the women locked inside she was a new labourer and told them to make her ready for the next shift. He left her there. One of the women waved her hand and three others grabbed her and stripped her. She was taken to the old knackered showers, which barely worked and one of them grabbed her head and cut away her locks, until she had minimal hair on her head, like the rest of her barracks. It wasn’t professionally done. She was dragged back to the main room where someone tossed her a set of filthy rags, which she had to put on.
It was at this time she realised, somehow, she was dreaming. That made a lot of sense because she hadn’t screamed or really complained about her treatment. She tried to wake up but couldn’t, so she watched what was happening. She wasn’t too worried about all this, after all, it was only a dream.
Shortly after donning her new garb, officers came in and fitted metal collars round their necks and chained each collar to the next in line. In this way they were marched to a shaft head. Inside they dropped a long way to a mine shaft. They trundled along that for what seemed like miles, until they came to the face. Here their chains were removed and they started work. It was hard, physical labour and she wasn’t used to it. Her hands blistered and she suffered numerous abrasions and banged her head several times on the low roof. Nobody here wore hard hats.
The whole gang returned to the barracks after a very long time. Her watch was gone and there weren’t any clocks to be seen. Once back she flopped onto a bed but was immediately and unceremoniously pulled off. The others were tired but were used to this regime. She had an initiation to attend—hers.
The initiation was humiliating but not as brutal as she feared. On her knees she had to repeat her allegiance to this barracks to the death. She also had to prove herself by sleeping and servicing each of the team in rotation. One per night. This proved problematic as she simply fell asleep once in bed with her new partner. She soon learned not to do that. Staying awake and pleasuring her partner was preferable to the pain.
Eventually, she learned and adapted to her new regime. The days passed slowly, but they passed. Their sole entertainment was sex, fighting and homemade tatts. She toughened up, lost a lot of weight as well as a front tooth and gained muscle, tatts and scars. Most of her scars were from the dangers of the job, but some came from fighting. Nothing adheres you to your barrack’s buddies more than fighting for your barrack’s honour and defending your buddies against sneak attacks from the other barracks. After a couple of months, she was added to a duty roster to service the guards every once in a while. She didn’t like that. She preferred her barrack’s buddies now. But the alternative wasn’t pleasant, so she did her best.
One day she was brought to the managing director who told her her sentence was done and she would be returned. She returned as cargo, trussed up in a crate, but return she did—eventually, back to her own home to sleep again in her own bed. She knew this was a dream and she would be back when she woke up, which would be soon now as she was sleeping in her dream.
She awoke and all was fine again. Not that she didn’t check. Her first action on waking was to check herself in the mirror and there she was, in all her glory. She still could do with losing a few pounds, but she still had the hourglass figure she liked and used as one of her main assets.
She had woken up early, which was unusual for her. Today, there was nothing for her to do, and she couldn’t be bothered with cleaning her flat, so she lounged around for a while, drinking coffee and watching early morning news on the telly. She thought about calling her friends to boast about her new haul, but they would be getting ready to go to work and wouldn’t appreciate her calling at this hour for a reason like that. Her other friends, her professional colleagues, wouldn’t be awake at this hour, unless they were returning from somewhere pleasant. They also wouldn’t want to be disturbed at this hour.
So, she removed her night attire and put on her new Louboutins, her new fur coat and her new ruby necklace and nothing else then paraded around her flat. She really enjoyed this. She had won the contest fair and square. She could remember everything. That first evening in Rome, the day she was left on her own because John’s business was that day. John met her in the evening and they returned to her room in the hotel, where John attempted to hypnotise her. He tried for an hour and, like before, she never even felt the inclination to obey or relax or sleep or whatever it was that hypnotised people do just before they’re hypnotised. She didn’t actively try to prevent john, it just never happened. And, to be fair, John had told her he didn’t need to prep her or to have her co-operate in any way except listen to him. She was impressed at the way John took his failure. He was honest at least. She liked him but her assessment of him was that he didn’t have enough money for her lifestyle, so, liking him was all she allowed herself to feel.
Eventually, she found herself watching the time on her ornate, and very expensive, mantle clock. It was approaching nine o’clock and she watched as the second hand slowly counted down the seconds to the hour. On the hour she remembered.
She remembered the whole thing. Her dream was true. She had worked for years in a mine, John’s mine, in fact. She saw everything with new eyes now. Her new fur coat was just a set of rags with armholes. Her Louboutins were her own decrepit set of work boots. Her ruby necklace, a piece of red electric cable entwined about her neck.
She looked at her arms, thin and scrawny but now strong, covered with scars and homemade tatts. They were ugly as sin. Rushing to her full length mirror, she saw a tramp looking back at her. One of the fit ones. She craved a cigarette, even though she didn’t smoke, but she did in the barracks. They were a luxury in the barracks, to be fought over and hoarded and enjoyed when available. Her hair was short and unkempt. She was filthy and the dirt was ingrained. A simple shower or bath would never get that out. Her phone rang.
“Hello?” she queried, in a quavering voice.
“Hello, Jill. This is Claire, remember me? I’m your step-daughter. The one with Clive as a Dad.”
Jill tried to pull herself together. “Oh yes, what can I do for you Claire?” Her voice betrayed her, though.
Claire laughed. “Don’t try to gloss it over Jill. It’s over. We have the money you conned out of our Dad and you signed the forms agreeing to this. It was in the local paper, don’t you remember?” Claire mocked. “You were calling from Africa then and you said to the reporter you would never come between Clive and his first family, so you wouldn’t take any of his money. You didn’t know he was going to change his will and if you did, you would have dissuaded him from doing that. Everyone here thought you were so honest and moral. After all, it is a lot of money but still, half for us just wasn’t enough.” She paused to let that sink in. Jill said nothing. “You’ve been declared dead, Jill. John’s fee was ten percent of the money we got from you and we were careful to pay him what we owed as soon as we could. After all, we have absolute experience of what he can do, so, he got paid first. But, as for you, well, your bank accounts have been closed and the cash in them dispersed according to the law. We declined to take anything from those accounts, so, I’m afraid, the government has it all.” There was triumph in her voice. “Good luck if you want to recover all that from this Tory government, especially in this recession. If you do claim it back, the first thing you should do is prove you’re you. I’m afraid John covered that as well. We didn’t check, but we’re confident in his abilities. You have nothing but your DNA now to prove you’re you. Your flat’s mortgage will be three months in arrears tomorrow, as are all your household bills. Your mobile is now on PAYG and there’s less than a pound left on it.”
Another pause. Jill was trying to assimilate all this as well as looking at the proof of these assertions in the mirror. The scar across her left cheek fascinated her. She remembered getting it in a fight. It was the first fight she won. She was so proud of herself.
“One piece of advice Jill, as a gesture of good will. I recommend you get yourself checked out for STDs and AIDS. I hear they’re rife in that gold mine where you were working. Good bye Jill. We’ll all remember you with fondness.”