Extract:

( ... ) Speeches finished, the group split, some staying in the auditorium, some going into an ante-room to play with the new technology. Simon wandered into the main reception where a few clusters of people were making no secret of the fact that for them the serious business of the night was getting extremely drunk at somebody else's expense.
Simon was guided to a couch in the alcove where the directors of  Avanti Technology and their special guests were gathered. A selection of food from the buffet was brought to him. Talk was of how Avanti and their guest speaker could help each other and dried up when somebody sat next to the principal of Bar - Tec. It was the auburn haired woman. "Like you to meet Roz Fisher, Roz, Simon Barton." Dave Burns said, before leaning down to whisper, "compliments of Dickie Price you lucky bastard."
Simon stood and took the woman's hand. "Enchanted. Roz. Rosemary?"
"Rosalind to friends or formal acquaintances. Some people find it a bit of a mouthful so I let them off with Roz but I like to be called Rosalind. Friends respect that."
" I hate formality so if you'll permit me to presume friendship at this stage we'll go for a friendly Rosalind."
"If we know each other more than an hour you'll get tired of it."
"I'm a Shakespeare fan."
"Well call me what you like then, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." She tilted her head to one side and smiled. A flinty hardness that went with the territory lay under the beauty but in the depths of her unusual eyes was something soft, warm and very inviting.
"Dig into the snacks if you're hungry. Putting my supper aside was a kind thought but I believe canapes are mostly made from pureed rat turds. Can I get you a drink?"
"Just a mineral water, I'm driving unless I get a better offer."
"I shouldn't think that would be a problem."
"Well three have put their markers down so far, let me see, Mr Potato - Head, the Screaming Skeleton and Jabba the Hutt. Oh and Crocodile Four - X overr there offered me some lessons in prodding the old clam or something. Sorry, I'm supposed to sit here and flatter you."
"Crocodile four? - oh yeah I know who you mean," he laughed, "he had a package holiday to Sydney and the Great Barrier Reef once and has been working on the accent and pretending he grew up in the outback ever since. Listen, forget the flattery you're doing fine." Simon could not hide his amusement at the situation.
"Why are you laughing at me then."
"Because unless you really are only here as a hostess, you're wasting your time."
"Really? I was told you are the hot stud in this business. Had more women than Rockefeller had oil wells."
"That's an outrageous lie. Well an exaggeration at least. If I'd had all the women people say I have I would have worn willie away by now."
"Half the room seemed obsessed with which of us you would target."
"So if I'm such a hot stud why would I target a - working girl?"
"So coy. Let's be honest darling. I'm a prostitute. That OK for you."
"Fine. I don't have a problem with what you do, you're beautiful and I'm enjoying your company. But I don't think I could ever get my ego around paying somebody to have sex with me."
"I've been paid. I'm all yours until morning."
"And what does that include."
"Anything you want darling."
"Why not start by kissing me then."
"Ah."
"Problem?" Simon's smile was sardonic, mocking.
"You're laughing at me again. Listen, if you like I'll go, give your friend his money back and see what else is available."
"No, don't go. You are a bit prickly aren't you? I suppose I am too, its an unfamiliar situation. Now don't take this the wrong way please, but I'm used to being with women who are there because they want to be with me. I know that's a horrible thing to say, but lets clear the air. Now if you have been paid to keep me company please stay. I am enjoying your company. As for the rest - well, I'm not going to tell if you don't."
"Do you know something," she wagged a finger sternly but smiled, "if this was a film I'd throw a drink over you or something."
"If this was a film I'd say something witty in my Jack Nicholson voice. Where were we? Kissing. Why not start by kissing me then?"
"Because...." Simon's stare blocked escape through evasion. "Because it's a bit too personal. Most men know better than to ask. Most of my clients are ugly and have bad breath or personal hygiene problems. They're just glad to be in the same room as me."
"And I'm different?"
"For God's sake, look round."
"You're right I can't see one man that I'd fancy."
"What about girls?"
"I don't mix business and pleasure. Where are you driving to?"
"About fifteen miles south of the city, in Cheshire. You."
"I'm booked in here courtesy of our hosts. But home is near Richmond in Yorkshire."
"Where you keep the wife and kids."
"Where I keep the sports car and other toys. There was a Mrs Barton for a while but although she enjoyed the millionaire lifestyle she wanted lots of attention and a husband at home too.  Now it seems I'm paying somebody to give her that, but it's better than giving her half the business."
"Poor you. All alone at home and all alone tonight in a big hotel bed."
"Rosalind, I'm dealing you a good hand here, you can play it better than that. Let's work the room for a while and then if you like we'll sneak off to Chinatown and eat. What can you talk about."

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