6
In the half hour you've been gone, the queue has tripled. You wander from the end of the queue to the front as if you're inspecting the linee and deciding whether it's worth joining it but, really, your decision rests on the guy who was there earlier. You've remembered who he is now. Jack Rogers, ex football pro, fitness trainer to the stars. Half of any red carpet owes its killer bodies to him and the other half has sampled his – if the rumours are anything to go by.
He's no longer anywhere to be seen and you can't face the queue on the chance he'll even still be in there, let alone unaccompanied, by the time you get in. If you get in.
You've missed your chance.
The end
7
You're used to Giselle making fun of you by now.
"Are you going to keep me in here all night?" you ask, trying to inject a playful tone into your voice and rise above the tormenting teasing that marks so much of Giselle's interactions with you.
"It doesn't look as if you're going to be much use there," she replies. Her breath hitches in her throat and she braces her arms and starts moving against Anton. You wonder if this is what she wanted you to see. The screen isn't big enough, or the camera isn't angled right, so you can't see any of what's going on nor anything else about Anton.
The lift pings and the doors open. You lower your head and see that the screen has gone dark. You're relieved to get out, quashing thoughts that this interaction wasn't fair – even by Giselle's standards. Maybe Anton has more charm in person.
The lift is at the end of a corridor so at least you can only go in one direction. The corridor is surgically white with twists of platinum cable lighting that subtly call attention to monochrome and sepia toned artwork on the walls. The corridor opens out into a penthouse suit that's half taken over by an enormous round bed.
Giselle is naked now, facing towards you on all fours with Anton behind her, her face contorted in what looks like genuine pleasure – not that it's always possible to spot when she's faking. He smiles broadly as you walk towards the bed and then comes loudly and slaps her ass as he withdraws. She scoots to one side, allowing you a good look at his diminishing erection before he sits up against the pillows.
You halt awkwardly. Maybe your arrival was what made him climax but what are you supposed to do if there's nothing to join in with anymore?
You look to Giselle for help but she shrugs, almost imperceptibly.
'Did you bring room service?' asks Anton, his voice revealing some kind of European accent now you're not hearing it through the acoustics of the lift. He has an aristocratic-looking face. The kind of high cheekbones and patrician features that look as if they would only top the most expensive of tailored suits.
'Ahhh…' You hesitate, unsure how flirty to be at this late stage in the proceedings.
'Could you send my mail for me?' he asks to your complete bewilderment. It saves you the effort of thinking how to play it. Again, no reaction from Giselle. You rack your brains trying to think what it might be a euphemism for. French letters? You've got some of course – condoms are always in your bag.
You nod once. It's not an answer but you can't think of anything to say. He doesn’t seem to care if you talk or not, though, and reaches to his left to pick up a smallish, brown package from the nightstand. He tosses it to the foot of the bed where it falls amid the crumpled silk sheets.
'That needs to go to a magician who'll make it disappear.' He laughs at his non sequitur joke. You've no idea what he's talking about still. Giselle flicks her eyes at it to urge you, if not your tongue, out of your paralysis and you step forward to pick it up. It's not heavy but it's padded and you can't tell what's in it.
'I don't – I mean I can't take – I mean - carry drugs if that's what this is.'
'It's the most powerful drug there is.'
What the hell has Giselle been saying about you?
'I don't know what makes you think I'm into that but I can assure you I really don't-'
'Take a look, honey,' says Giselle finally. 'We're all hooked on that drug.'
You unfold the top corner of the package and immediately see something that reminds you how you wound up in this life in the first place. Sparkling jewels. But this is no rhinestone thong, it's the real deal. A tangle of diamonds threaded together on fine silvery metal threads. There's too much of it to be simply a necklace. You let out a deep breath, not even caring that it's audible. It's impossible to say how much this package is worth. Even if it's not looking illegal in an instantly obvious way, you can't walk around with something as valuable as this.
'What is it?'
'Ahhh, so uncultured!' He smiles, showing he doesn't mean to insult. 'You're holding something that has beguiled men throughout history in the hands of the right woman. The story goes that Marie Antoinette was the one who brought it to France. Before her, maybe even as far back as Cleopatra wore it. But we all know what happened to the last Queen of France.' He makes a brief his finger motion with at his throat. 'Napoleon, shall we say, acquired them for Josephine and Josephine had him ensnared forever. I think that was his intention. Powerful men love to be enslaved by women.'
Giselle snorts in agreement. 'Especially rich, powerful men.'
'But surely this can't be the same one. How would you know? How did you get it after Napoleon?'
'Things like this, priceless, beautiful, alluring … they pass from collector to collector. You could say I'm a collector. You might say Leon – the magician – is one too.'
'But what is it?'
'It's an adornment to bewitch men and make you the most desired you've ever been. Leon will be enraptured and you, if you want to take it, you could have the most memorable night of your life, following in the footsteps of the greatest women in history.'
Anton snakes his arm round Giselle's shoulders and begins playing with her right breast, squeezing her nipple between two fingers. Giselle arches her back and flicks her hair in pleasure.
'Why don't you want to take it?' you ask Giselle, eyes narrowed but too curious to inject that much suspicion into your tone.
'I'm already having the most memorable night of my life,' she says and bends her head to lick around the tip of Anton's erection. She winks at you on the way down and, even now, it's hard for you to know if she's telling the truth. But you want to get a look at what's in the package and taking it is the only way to find out what it is.
'The address is on the packet,' Anton says, his voice even, despite the fact Giselle's hand is also now wrapped around his cock. 'Go straight there. No stop offs. No phone-calls.'
'Leon will pay you for your time – or your whatever,' Giselle says and laughs. She sounds like the Giselle you first met – all hard edges and no sense of camaraderie. Not that you've seen her out of business mode that often, but there have been times when she's touching you or you've been playing with her, that there have been flickers of connection. Or all of it has been just a game she plays for her own reasons. Anton probably feels like he's her most valued customer when he's just tonight's most valuable.
'The whatever?' you ask, knowing she loves keeping you hanging with this kind of cryptic comment. 'What's in "the whatever"?'
'A magician never reveals his secrets,' she says.
It’s the second time that word has been used. You look at the package and see that it's labelled "Leon The Great and Powerful" with an address that's a few blocks from here. Whatever 'the whatever' entails, it involves jewellery that's hundreds of years old. You say goodbye and leave them to it.
This time the lift opens, descends, and opens again with no interruption from the screen in the panel.