Kerching Kerching

Louise had amazing eyes, all the men said so. They were citrously green and had their own language that spoke to men below the waistline. They were a tool, like her implanted breasts that she used as a typist uses a keyboard. They worked unsocial hours, and when the shops were open, but when they were off duty, they were greedy eyes that reflected the colour of money.

She was a good time girl, she knew how to have a laugh and while nobody would stoop so low as

to use the word prostitute—at least not to her face— she had a reputation and had to widen her geographical field with each new conquest. She made no secret of the fact that she knew what she wanted, and she knew which tools were at her disposal to get it.

Louise liked the five star hotels of the city favored by bored businessmen and celebrities. It was only a matter of time before she bagged herself a footballer or pop star, she had little interest in sport or music and didn’t care which as long as he came with a personalized number plate. He was her goal and her smash hit and she’d hang on to him long enough to utter the gorgeously luscious words, divorce settlement.

Her modus operandi never failed, she would sit alone at the bar glancing at her watch, as though waiting for somebody that, never arrived. She used her kitten eyes, the wide expression, to look at the door every time it opened and she drew the male predators to her place at the watering hole with understated experience.

Louise was beautiful by scalpel and design. God wanted her to be successful. She was tall and slim, with an ocean of golden curls a small precision crafted face with porcelain features, a designer nose and pouting lips aided by Botox. Her job didn’t come without expenses.

.She was the type of woman that caused stylish men to walk into posts. It was never longer than five minutes before she had a hit.

Enter, Geoff, surnames were never used to protect the guilty. The pickings were good. This one was forty something-mid life crisis—big spender, she knew the type, one of her favourites. He was toned, greying, debonair and confident, His suit and shoes were elegant and expensive, and although his aftershave was subtle, it reeked of money, the greatest aphrodisiac in the world.

Louise was looking forward to playing with this one, he flashed his Gold Card, and signed the chitties with a flourish that said, ‘ Money no object.’ He wined, dined and bedded her with a confidence that said he was the center of his universe, and although others may be invited in, his was the only opinion that really ever counted.

They arranged to meet the following afternoon. Geoff didn't have to return to his mousy wife and three point two children until later in the evening. They ate lunch in a classy bistro; the bill would have fed an average family of four for a fortnight and Louise could have devoured the meager portion. She wanted to lick the plate when she’d finished, but she picked at her food sparrow-like and resisted stabbing Geoff with her fork when he leaned over and took the last bread roll. She left exactly the right amount of food on her plate, about half of what she’d begun with.

After lunch, Geoff wanted to go back to the hotel and spend the rest of their time feasting on the carnal delights of the flesh, of course he did, he was a man. Louise had a very different agenda.

She manipulated and teased the conversation. He wasn't aware of the manacles slipping around his bank card. She played to his ego and encouraged him to brag about his means and possessions while she cooed at him with doe eyes and suggestive body language that optimized the display of the goods for sale. She made the fool want to treat her.

Louise had hit the jackpot, three cherries in a row. The man had a penchant for shopping equal to her own. They went from Owen Owen, to British Home Stores, from Principles, to H Samuel's. At every shop doorway he squeezed her arm and said something encouraging,‘Carte Blanche, my dear. You mustn’t be shy. I want to buy you all of the things you deserve. Anything you want, it’s yours.’ Louise didn't need telling twice. Geoff was reckless with the plastic. He'd sign with his confident wave of ink, and whisk her to the next shop. He was a man on a mission with no time to stop for a cup of coffee and no window shopping, just buy, buy, buy. Louise was in heaven.

He was thoughtful. Some men would have left her struggling with pinching stiletto heels and laden down with bags and packages. To Louise this was her job, she would have borne it with stamina, she was on double time. But Geoff, insisted on making regular trips back to his car with their shopping.

He’d bought her clothes, heels and handbags—he understood the importance of the two going together— jewelry, lingerie, perfume and he didn't stint on himself and matched her bag for bulging bag.

She had it all to look forward to again. Geoff said that he came to town at least once a month and that they could meet often. Louise felt the pound signs rolling inside her greedy, green eyes. Geoff said she was a joy to shop for. The man was sent from heaven above. He wasn’t financially big enough to marry, but he was plenty big enough to drop whatever she was doing at a moment’s notice and make herself available. She wanted to play the line out on this one for a long and as far as it would stretch. She thought of him as her overtime.

After the last trip, he dropped her at a coffee shop and asked her to buy coffee while he took the last of the packages to the car. She smiled at the world over her frothy Cappuccino, already planning where they would go on their next shopping expedition.

She finished her coffee and wondered where he was. The first doubt whispered in her ear but she shook it away. He had stopped off she thought, to buy her a special gift as a surprise. She contemplated getting another coffee but decided to go and see if she could see him. She asked the waiter for the bill and reached in her bag for her purse, but it was gone. As had all her credit cards, cheque book, driving license and passport. All of her money, identification and financial paperwork was lost.

Two police officers arrived at her table. ‘We are arresting you on the suspicion of fraud. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you.....’

After spending an uncomfortable and humiliating few hours in police custody, she was released on bail, pending trial.

She was acquitted at the public trial. It was clear that she wasn’t guilty of any crime and had been used as a stooge. Gullibility and greed are not deemed to be crimes within the British Judicial system. The local paper made a big deal of her lifestyle and choices and the townsfolk sneered and laughed.

The infamous, Carte Blanche Fraudster, is still out there.... preying.