The Classic Con

Charlie marvelled at his own cleverness – he’d managed to score a beautiful blonde and an expensive car in one fell swoop

- GIL JACKMAN

CHARLIE Wain-wright is quite pleased with him-self. He’s driving an Alfa Romeo sports car along a coastal road in southern Spain.

The car he’s driving is worth millions, but the woman seated next to him is priceless. She’s the most stunning creature Charlie has ever seen, let alone been seen with. Long blonde hair flows out behind her perfect features, tugged gently by fingers of a breeze drifting in the slipstream of the classic car.

Her name is Ulrike and she’s Danish.

He’d bumped into her in a small hotel in Requena, which is inland from Valencia, and he still can’t believe his luck. Charlie has never been shy where women are concerned. In fact, pushing modesty aside, he’s always considered himself a bit of a ladies’ man.

Charlie is quite good-looking in a flashy sort of way – white loafers (imitation Gucci of course), gold watch and chains around the neck.

But as he steals a sideways glance at his companion, Ulrike is something else, Charlie thinks. She has the firm body of an aerobics instructor, the face of an angel, the hair of a Valkyrie and a brain besides.

It’s been her initiative and knowledge of the local language that’s placed him behind the wheel of this wonderful car.

THEY’D met in a bar where Charlie was having some difficulty trying to order a piña colada.

She ordered for him, accepted a drink for her assistance and that was it. She’d just finished at art college and was touring Europe for a few months, she told him. She’d only arrived in Requena that morning, Ulrike informed the attentive Charlie, had liked the place and hopped off the bus.