Acquired Tastes Read Online Free PDF Page A

her.
    Jeremy had never been the same again. The marriage lasted another three years before Vanessa threw him out, and during the final year, communication between them had shrunken to words of one syllable and the occasional lawyer's letter, which was why she could not understand the reason for Jeremy calling last night and begging to see her.
    Her instinct had been to tell him where to go, but curiosity had got the better of her, so she told him to be at her flat at six that afternoon, which would give her time to change before what she hoped would be a hot dinner date that evening.
    Vanessa glanced at her watch. The taxi was edging forward, negotiating the traffic around Hyde Park Corner inch by inch. It would take at least another ten minutes to get to the office, which meant she was going to be late for the production meeting. Philip Pryce would not be a happy man.
    She snapped open her compact and deftly reapplied her lipstick. In some ways, Philip reminded her of Jeremy. They were both irritatingly diffident when it came to dealing with women. She had been working for Philip for nearly a year now and he still hadn't made a pass at her.
    She had dismissed the possibility of Philip being gay - the usual grapevine had yielded no gossip to this effect - and no matter how much they tried, nobody could be that discreet; word always got out.
    Anyway, Vanessa decided, as she studied her face in her compact mirror, she had never yet been wrong about a man. No, if the problem was anywhere, it had to be with Philip. It was just a question of discovering his particular taste in sex.
    They had met at a post-award party she'd gate-crashed. It was an opportune meeting as she had just seen a confidential memo about staff restructuring in the ITV company where she was then working. It had been difficult to read upside down on her boss's desk, but she got the distinct feeling that she would not be considered vital to the new structure.
    Vanessa always trusted her instincts. Knowing when to leave a job was one of her talents, it was always better to do it before any of her indiscretions became public or before anyone checked up on her curriculum vitae. Life had taught her that it was better to be economical with the truth when it came to her experience and qualifications, and up until now, life had proved a good teacher. There was always gossip of course, but she moved so frequently, it barely had time to catch up with her before she moved on to the next job. She had always found parties, rather than job interviews, happy hunting grounds for advancement, as they allowed her to show off her particular qualifications far better than her curriculum vitae.
    Alcohol had the advantage of both lowering critical faculties and inducing indiscretions, the second of which could later be used to her advantage. Vanessa invariably found that once she had seen a man with his trousers around his ankles, he found it difficult to look her in the eye and was only too happy to help her in any way she asked. Vanessa never considered it blackmail, as she never had to threaten anything.
    Getting into parties to which she had not received an invitation was another of her skills. It was just a question of looking right and claiming very loudly that you were joining someone suitably impressive inside as you waved away the hand reaching out for your invitation. The trick was not to hesitate and to walk through the door, even if someone tried to stop you. It never failed to work. However, on the evening she met Philip, Vanessa was beginning to wonder whether it had been worth coming to the party. She had introduced herself to the recipients of the most important awards of the evening, and found herself looking down at the bald pates of a group of portly middle-aged men, still lachrymose after the fulsome and sentimental eulogies they had made about each other at the ceremony earlier.
    Only one of them had shown any interest in her, and judging by his lopsided leer,