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He smiled a bit at that, albeit quite sheepishly, his eyes seeking an affair with the floor.
Áine chewed her lip as she watched on both humorously engaged and intrigued.
“Alright, go on then, tell me what I can do for you,” he said.
She beckoned him closer to her mouth, which had become shrivelled from years of smoking.
He played her game now, edging to dip his ear Áine knew she probably would bite without a fee just to see the rise in him.
“Do me a favour, yourself and herself”—Trina nodded Áine’s way—“light a candle for the lad sulking by the door there because he’s going to need it after I’m finished with him.”
Fionn burst into roaring laughter in the way of scrunching his eyes, bobbing his shoulders. It almost made Áine jealous she hadn’t managed to bring out the same in him tonight.
But then she laughed too, and Trina, until all the room was laughter spare the awkward customer, completely unsure what to do with himself apart from opening and closing the apps on his phone.
“I’ll do one better,” Fionn said, gesturing his head back to the kitchen. “I’ll send up some flat 7-up to ye’ for the aftermath. My mam swore by it for recovery.” He winked.
Trina’s head swivelled to Áine, lips pressed and foxed-eyes dead set on her. “You’d do well to keep him, darling. Handsome chap, isn’t he? I’d do him for free if he’d have me.”
“Sure don’t I know,” Áine said as she meandered behind the reception to grab Trina’s pre-existing room key she shared with all the other girls on Paddy’s books.
“Now. You!” Trina took to placing her target back on the boy. “C’mere to me and we’ll get you well fed.”
Trina was by far the most flamboyant of the sex workers. Some barely spoke. Some made a point of focusing solely on the person coming in with them. Most lay somewhere in between, providing false pleasantries to the point where Áine had to stop herself from chatting longer than five minutes. Trina was also a performer of Gaiety and was like this, flamboyant, before ever reaching the bedroom; the world her stage no passerby could tear their judging eyes away from.
It was beautiful to Áine.
Trina took pride in her work, and while the first to admit she’d much prefer doing a show at the Bord Gáis Theatre, she also maintained she never worked any less when in private.
Áine passed her the key card Trina accepted by thanks of a wink. Then she went on her merry way, arm linked with the boy probably up from the countryside after hearing of her from a stag party or an uncle.
They stepped into the small disabled lift, faces turned to Fionn, and Áine, who had rejoined him at the desk.
“It was an Irish man, you know,” she said to Fionn as the doors dinged to close.
“What was?”
“Who invented Dioralyte. The flat 7-up to help the sick. It’s not an old wives’ tale. Tell your mam she was right. It’s the same thing. All electrolytes, love.” She blew a kiss as the doors closed, leaving Fionn with something he seemed to appreciate, evident in all the waves of smiles he was trying ever-so-poorly to rein in.
“I’d say she grows on you,” he whispered into Áine’s hair-covered ear.
Áine threw him a side-eye; her on the left, him on the right. “It’s her job. Don’t be ashamed to know men are easily seduced.”
“Oh, I’m not ashamed. But I’m not so easily seduced either.”
Though she believed him, this revved all sorts of dopamine in her; the challenge to prove him wrong. The opportunity to find the natural high. “Oh really?”
“Yes, Áine. Really.” He turned to corner her into the desk, forcing her to lean against it beneath his towering stance.
Not to give him the upper hand, she unhooked the first button in the row of her pinafore’s front, teasing the slight exposure of her breasts.
A pleasurable sigh seeped from his barely parted lips. Then his hands were on her hips to hitch her onto the desk in one, fluid movement.
“That didn’t take long,” she teased.
Fionn spread her legs to step between them, his thumbs firm on the inlay of her thighs. “We don’t have much time left. I know what I want, and I know you want it too.”
She grasped the strings of his hoodie, twisting her fist to reel him from the depths of her power.
