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“How will you feel when an older man runs his hands all over you?”
At least honesty would avoid one big, shitty mess where she bolted out crying. I’d had a few of those, calling and telling me how horrible their experience had been or complaining that the man hadn’t become their sugar daddy or even boyfriend. Whenever I caught a glimmer of doubt in their eyes, I just opened the back door and gestured for them to leave.
Rey didn’t have to know that, of course. He still thought I was a virgin.
What a laugh.
I no longer needed to have him close, thanks to my grandmother’s generosity, even if my mother believed that once Grandmother Caroline learnt about how bad I was, she would toss me out on my arse. Wagging her finger, my mother loved to remind me how I would have to fend for myself because she wouldn’t be there to dish out cash.
Thanks, Mum.
“Look, I’m sensing that this is too much for you. Why don’t you come along tonight as my guest? Some girls watch from the sidelines and decide whether it’s something they want to do.”
“No. I want to do it. I have to. Maybe a few drinks. Maybe a drug?” She shrugged.
“A drug?” I frowned. “You don’t do drugs, do you?”
“No. But I thought it might help me relax.”
Some girls did that, and I turned a blind eye. What they did to their bodies was their business.
“I booked you for tonight’s showing. Do you still want to go ahead?” I looked at my watch. It was seven.
“I’ll do it.” She gulped.
I handed her the lingerie. “Then put this on, and I’ll take some photos and upload them on our members-only page. That way, clients get to see who’s on.”
“Do we have to dance or something?” she asked, sounding cute.
“Some of the more confident girls gyrate a bit. They get the best prices. But normally, you just walk around on the stage with other girls.”
“Do I have to strip naked? Or open my legs?”
“Sometimes there’s a bidding war between a couple of men, in which case, if the girl wants to, they can go into a private room, and yes, she opens her legs.”
Her grimace wasn’t lost on me.
“Why do I keep getting the feeling this isn’t for you?” I reached into my handbag and pulled out a chequebook. “I can’t give you ten thousand pounds, but I can give you a month’s rent until your dad gets a job.”
Her eyes widened in dismay as she shook her head. “No. I can’t. That’s so sweet of you, though. My dad won’t be able to work. He’s got some kind of illness. I need this to help us get through so I can continue my studies while working part time.”
“Where’s your mother?” I asked.
“She left.” Her lips trembled, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.
I scribbled a cheque for two thousand pounds. I was about to become a millionaire. My twenty-first was only a month away.
She stared down at the cheque. “You would give me this? You don’t even know me.” A tear dropped on her smooth, pale cheek.
“Don’t tell anyone. Now go away.”
She stood and kept staring at me wide-eyed. “This won’t do. I mean, can I still come and watch and decide then?”
I puffed. “Okay. But to be honest, I don’t think you’re right for this. If you haven’t had a boy touch you, then how will you feel with an older man?”
“Maybe you can tell me what to expect?” She forced a smile.
“Have you ever watched porn?” Was I really having this conversation?
