April Love Is Back!

'It's the Internet,' April said. 'No one wants to pay for quality these days. They all think it should be free.'

'Well, our product will be quality,' I said. 'And I have no doubt that those who want it will be prepared to put their hands in the pockets.'

April smiled. 'I hope so,' she said.

While April went to work on a script, I took a quick trip to Bordeaux where I went to visit a wine producer whose work I thought was seriously undervalued. I also knew that he needed working capital. 'Here's the deal, Marc,' I said, 'I'll take 2,000 bottles of that cheeky little merlot-cabernet franc blend at seven euros twenty a bottle, and I need you to label them as La Baroness.'

Marc shook his head.

'What? You don't have 2,000 bottles?'

Oh, yes. He had 2,000 bottles. In fact he had 4,000 bottles.

'Good,' I said. 'Because all going well, I could be back for another 2,000 before Christmas. So what's the problem? You don't like La Baroness?'

No, the name was fine. It was the price that he didn't like.

'Perhaps I should have another taste,' I said.

While it was a well-made wine, it certainly wasn't a wine for cellaring. But as a 'drink it over the next couple of years' wine it had lots of charm. The nose was fruity without being over the top. There were hints of cigar box. And there was just a touch of farmyard. Yes, I could probably afford to go up a little.

'Seven euros seventy-five?'

Again Marc shook his head.

'OK,' I said. 'Here's my very best offer: eight euros fifty – and you keep the other 2,000 bottles to one side for me.' Eight euros fifty was still only about seven pounds twenty. I'd be able to land it and clear it for less than ten quid a bottle.

'Nine euros?' Marc suggested. But I could tell by the tone of his voice that eight-fifty would do the deal. I just shook my head. And we shook hands on eight euros fifty.

When I got back to London, April had the bones of a script put together. 'How are we going to do this?' I asked. 'Are you going to act it out for me?'

'I think you should read it quietly on your own,' April said. 'I'm not sure that I'm quite ready to put on a live show for you.'

'Fair enough. Oh, and by the way, we have Chateau Marlene organised. Henry and Olivia are off to Australia for a couple of weeks to follow the cricket. I said we'd probably only need it for three days. I hope that will be enough.'

That night, after April had gone home, I wandered upstairs, poured myself a glass of a Bordeaux-style red (which, in fact, had come all the way from the Gimblett Gravels on New Zealand's East Coast), and then I sat down to read April's script. After almost three months of reading scripts for training films and corporate videos, I was beginning to get the hell of reading the words and letting my brain turn the words into images – although the images my brain was creating from April's script were nothing like those you might expect to see in a training film or corporate video of course.

'Well, it works for me,' I told April when she arrived the next morning.

'You think so?'

'I do.'

'Let's just hope that I can pull it off then.'

'I'm hoping that it will be the gentlemen of the leafy suburbs who will be pulling it off,' I said. 'If you see what I mean.'

April just smiled.

The plan when I had first acquired the bank's share of Munelight was that I would look after the business and financial matters and April would look after sales and production matters. But, as things developed, April and I began to meld into a surprisingly close knit team. Nevertheless, when it came time to film our first return-of-April-Love production, we – that is to say she – decided that it might be better if I stayed 'off set'.

'I think I might find it easier if it was just Louise and me,' April said. (Louise was a freelance director of photography – or DOP as we call them in the trade – with whom April had worked for many years.) 'Maybe after we've got this first one out of the way. It has been a few years since I did anything like this.'

I could see what she meant. 'OK,' I said. 'I'll focus on getting the packaging finished and the publicity started.'

The cunningly-designed packaging consisted of a box within a box. The discreet outer box simply bore the legend La Baroness, Handle with care, and a return address. The inner box, which safely encased two bottles of La Baroness Rouge and a DVD, bore the legend 'La Baroness: Comfort and Entertainment for the Discerning Gentleman'. It certainly looked the part for £149.95 (plus post and packaging).

When April and Louise arrived back from France about midday on the Thursday I felt a little bit like a small boy waking up on his birthday. 'So ...,' I said, 'how did it go?'

'Umm ... I think it went quite well,' April said. And Louise nodded – although I thought that her nod was slightly pensive.

'So when do I get to see it?'

'I think that you should probably wait until we're finished the edit,' April said. 'That way, you'll be seeing it in the same way that the punters will.'

Reluctantly, I agreed. And the two women disappeared into the bedroom editing suite for the next day and half, eventually reappearing in time for Friday night drinks.

'Are we getting close?' I asked.

'Oh, we're there,' April said.

'So can I see it now?'

'We think that you should wait just a little longer,' April said. 'Let's just have a glass of wine and unwind. And then we can get out of your hair, and you can take the DVD upstairs, sit down in front of that over-sized monitor of yours, and see what you think.'

I had to admit that it made sense. But the suspense was still killing me.

Eventually, April and Louise went off into the night to find taxis, and I was able to take the DVD – and the remains of a bottle of pretty decent Rioja – and head upstairs to my 'over-sized monitor'.

The film opens with a very slow zoom-in on Chateau Marlene in the late afternoon. A rich yellow light can be seen in a couple of the ground floor windows towards one side of the chateau. As the camera gets closer, it becomes apparent that there is a figure doing something in the room with the light on.

And then the camera is inside the spacious country-style kitchen in which a woman, with her back to the camera is pouring a cup of tea. Having poured the tea, the woman looks as though she is about to do something else. But then she seems to change her mind. She picks up the cup of tea and leaves the kitchen, turning off the light as she goes.

The camera follows the woman as she walks through a lavish formal dining room. At the other end of the dining room there is a pair of doors and, beyond the doors, a short flight of stairs leading up to an elegant sitting room. The woman carries the cup of tea up the stairs and places it on a small table beside a large upholstered chair.

For a moment or two, the camera hovers on the cup of tea. And then it pulls back slightly to reveal the woman, who we can now recognise as April, as she sits down in the chair and produces a hard-backed novel from behind one of the cushions.

April takes a sip of the tea and then opens the book at a book-marked page. As she reads, a small smile creeps across her face. A hand drops to her lap and she begins absent-mindedly stoking her crotch through her skirt. After a while, she puts the book, face down, on the arm of the chair and unzips the front of her skirt. Then she picks up the book again and slips a hand inside her skirt.

The camera moves in a little closer as she slips her hand inside her knickers. As she continues to read, she moves her hand up and down, making quiet, satisfied sounds as she massages her vulva. And then she puts the book down again, lifts her buttocks from the seat, and elegantly removes her knickers.

By now, her skirt is ruched up, exposing her vulva, and her fingers are circling her clitoris and tracing up and down her spreading labia. She continues to read. But not for long. Soon, her eyes are closed and she is focused on working her clit. Round and round, backwards and forwards her fingers go. And then ... and then ... and then she comes with a shuddering little orgasm.

For a few moments she slumps in her chair, her elegant clothing in partial disarray, a smile on her face. And then she opens her eyes. There is a brief look of surprise – perhaps even of shock. 'Gosh! How long have you been there?' she asks. 'I suppose you saw everything, did you?' And then she seems to relax again.

'Well, it is a very good book,' April says in her trademark sexy voice. 'I'm sure that you know someone who would enjoy it. Your girlfriend? Your wife perhaps? Or your mistress?' And then, after another pause, she says: 'Don't have a mistress? I bet you do,' she chuckles. 'Secretly.'

April takes another sip of her tea and then frowns slightly. 'Of course, if you really don't have a mistress, perhaps I could be your mistress. That's something to think about, isn't it?' she says, smiling again. 'You and me. I would be very discreet.'

The camera explores the small-but-sumptuous sitting room. 'I like this room,' April says. 'I can be myself in this room. Well, you've already seen me being myself, haven't you? Just because I am a baroness it doesn't mean that I can't be myself.' And she smiles, straightens her skirt, and adopts a more ladylike pose.

'Gosh. Is that the time?' April says. 'I need to get ready.' She gets up from her chair, picks up her teacup, and starts to walk back towards the stairs. 'You can come and talk to me if you like. Oh, and I suppose that I had better take these,' she says, noticing her abandoned knickers.

April returns to the kitchen, places her teacup on the large scrubbed-top table, and then pours herself a small glass of champagne. 'Just a cheeky little non-vintage number,' she says. And then she briefly holds the glass to her nose. 'But it does have a very pleasant citrusy note. I think you'd like it. In fact I'm sure that you would.' April takes a sip. 'Yes,' she says.

With her champagne glass in hand, April leaves the kitchen, but rather that turning towards the formal dining room, she turns the other way, and the camera follows her up another staircase and along another corridor to a spacious, sumptuous bedroom. 'This is my bedroom,' she says. 'In some ways I like this room even more than I like my sitting room.' And she smiles and winks.

April places the champagne glass on her dressing table. 'You'll need to excuse me for a moment,' she says. 'I just need to get my bath started.' And she disappears into an adjacent en suite bathroom from where, after a moment or two, there comes the sound of water running.

When she returns, she begins to undress, slowly, sensuously. 'Normally, Simone draws my bath and helps me with my dressing. She is such a treasure. But her dear mama has been a little indisposed of late, so I have given Simone a couple of days off to be with her. For the moment, it is just you and me. But then I'm sure that you don't mind that, do you?'

After a little more of Louise's excellent camera work, April announces that it is time to see how the bath is coming along. The camera follows her into the bathroom and, for the next few minutes captures all of the sensuality of a mature – and sexy – woman surrounded by soft bubbles.

'There. That's better,' April says, as she returns to the bedroom, clad only in a large peach-coloured bath sheet. 'I think I will wear one of my strapless gowns this evening, so I'm going to need a strapless bra.' And she opens a tall mahogany linen press and, from one of the drawers, produces a pale duck egg blue long-line strapless bra and holds it up. 'What do you think?' she asks.

Letting the bath sheet drop to the floor, she dons the bra and adjusts it to accommodate her womanly breasts. 'And now for a matching suspender belt,' she says. 'I do prefer stockings and suspenders. Don't you?' And with the matching suspender belt in place, she takes a pair of stockings from another drawer and puts them on too.

'Hmm,' she says, wagging her head but still smiling. 'You're looking at my pussy, aren't you? Here I am, wearing this beautiful bra and this beautiful suspender belt, especially for you, and all you can do is look at my pussy.' She shakes her head again. 'What is it that my brothers used to say? Cunt struck. Yes, that was it. You're cunt struck, aren't you? Well, enjoy it while you can, because I need to put some knickers on now. It wouldn't be proper to go to Madame Gris' little soiree without any knickers on, would it? Although, of course, it might be fun. Perhaps another time.'

And April slips into her matching knickers, pulls on her dress, and, after taking another sip of champagne, bids us bonsoir. For now. 'I will be back,' she says. 'And if you are still around then, well yes, there may be more treats.'

As the screen faded to black, I thought it was as good a time as any to press the pause button and refill my wine glass. April and Louise had done a fabulous job. April's character and delivery was hot, hot, hot. And Louise's cinematography was both stylish and sexy. I could see gentlemen of a certain age all over the country pouring themselves a glass of La Baroness and surreptitiously unzipping their flies. Perhaps, I thought, along with the wine and the DVD, we should also include a small box of tissues.

The second part of the film began with the baroness returning to the chateau. She is clearly hyped up from her evening out, chatting about the other guests at Madame Gris' soiree, and in particular about her impressions of them – both the men and the women – from a sexual perspective. She may be a baroness; but her language is pure and delightful filth.

And then, gradually, she begins to wind down. Once again, we see her stripping as she prepares to go to bed. 'Are you still cunt struck?' she asks. 'Are you? I think you are. Would you like to see my pussy close up? Yes, of course you would,' she says.

Part Three starts with April waking up to the sound of church bells. 'Mmm,' she says. 'Sunday. A day for pure thoughts and pure deeds.' And after a little pause she pouts slightly and adds: 'But I can't help it if my thoughts and deeds at this hour of the day tend to be of, well, pure sex.' From the a drawer in one of the bedside tables she takes out a small vibrator. And so begins another delightfully erotic scene.

'I see that you're still here,' she says, after she has demonstrated, with all the clarity and step-by-step detail of a well-made training film, her favourite masturbation techniques. 'And you still want more, don't you? You still want to see more of my pussy.' She pauses, smiling, and then continues: 'Well, in that case, you'll just have to watch out for my next little film.' Still smiling, she pauses yet again.

'In the meantime ...,' she says, eventually. And she blows a little kiss in the direction of the camera (and the discerning gentleman viewer).

I drained the last of the wine from my glass, picked up my phone, and called April. 'I'm in love,' I said.

'It's OK?'

'Oh, much better than OK. Much, much better. An erotic masterpiece.'

'I'm not sure about that,' she said. 'But good. I'm glad that you like it.' I could hear the relief in her voice. 'Louise and I thought that it worked pretty well, but when you're close to these things, it's not always easy to tell.'

'So when can we start dispatching?' I asked.

'Well ... we need to put the titles on ... and there are a couple of spots where the sound probably needs tidying up a bit ... but I guess the master should be ready to go out by the end of Monday.'

'In that case, I will tell Mike to throw the switch – or whatever he has to do – and the website can go live.'

By the end of the first week, April Love, aka La Baroness, had acquired 63 new fans. By the end of the second week, the exclusive club's membership had grown to just over 600. And halfway through the third week I was on the phone to Marc down in Bordeaux asking him to send the 2,000 bottles of wine that he had set aside and then see what else he could rustle up.

To celebrate, April and I treated ourselves to lunch at Scrivano's, a little Tuscan-inspired restaurant on the border between Holland Park and Notting Hill. And even before we had had a chance to decide what we were going to drink, Maurice walked in. 'Oh, hello,' I said. 'You're rather a long way from Canary Wharf.'

'Yes. I'm ... umm ... taking some time out,' Maurice said.

'Oh? You've left the bank?'

'Well, not exactly. But we're in negotiation,' he said.

'I see.'

'And you? How's the film business? Must be tough – you know, with things the way they are.'

'Well, there are certainly challenges,' I said. 'But it's a hell of a lot more fun than banking.'

Maurice seemed surprised. 'Really?' he said.

'Oh, yes. Really,' I assured him.