For my wife (for not killing me after all our years together) xxx
She’d learned many years ago that people will do just about anything for money, it was just a question of negotiating the right price. Reaching for the towel, she wiped the remains of the cream from her breasts, before refastening the straps of her bra and shoving the wad of notes into her cleavage. Straightening, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the crusty mirror on the wall, and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, before tying it into a ponytail.
There were plenty of other ways she could earn the rent for the flat, but no other job could pay what she earned per hour with these strip gigs. Who was she kidding? She enjoyed dancing to the music and watching as men gawped lustfully, each thinking they could satisfy her, none realizing that the last thing she wanted was to have sex with any of them. There was only one special man in her life, and he was thankfully tucked up at home in bed. Pressing her locket to her lips, she kissed his tiny photograph, reminding herself that he was why she took these gigs. She’d never told him what she did for a living, and if she had her way, she’d never have to.
Zipping up her knee-length boots, she pulled on her miniskirt and leather jacket, and collected the iPod and speaker, dropping them in her bag. The stop for the night bus was a ten minute walk, and she’d already mapped the route in her mind. It was tempting to call a taxi, but it would probably take longer to arrive and drop her home than the walk and bus ride, so what was the point.
Lighting a fresh cigarette, she pushed the fire doors open, and stepped into the cool night air. Despite the lampposts lining the streets, there wasn’t a great deal of light on the road as she made her way out to the pavement and turned right. How she wished she’d brought something warmer to change into. That would have meant an extra bag, though, and she hadn’t needed the stress earlier.
Condensation billowed from her mouth as she took a fresh drag on the cigarette and wrapped her jacket tighter around her middle. A set of car headlights passed, briefly lighting the path ahead of her before disappearing into the black void. If she could squeeze in some extra gigs, she’d have enough to buy a car – nothing fancy, but a little runabout that could get her to and from these gigs with the minimum of fuss.
A sudden rush of footsteps approaching from behind put her on edge. Reaching into her handbag, she rustled around for her penknife, and, clasping it, she paused and spun on her heel, ready to thrust it at any potential attacker. She gripped it tighter as she recognized his face.
‘Help you with something, pal?’ she said, trying to keep the fear from her voice.
His shirt flapped in the breeze. She couldn’t deny he was attractive, in a goofy kind of way. Not her type by any means, but certainly someone who would receive plenty of female attention.
‘I wondered whether you wanted to join me for a drink.’
‘Thanks, but I already have plans.’
‘Are you sure? I would make it worth your while.’
She dropped the cigarette to the floor while surreptitiously slipping her penknife back into her handbag and made a show of squashing the cigarette with her boot. ‘I dance for money, and that’s it. I’m not that kind of girl.’
He pulled a large wad of notes from his pocket and began to count them into his hand. ‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you?’
Her eyes were on the cash. It was tempting, but she’d made a personal vow never to sleep with anyone for money. What she did – albeit a nefarious activity – was professional. There was a line she wasn’t prepared to cross, and the glint in this man’s eye told her exactly what he was thinking.
‘As I said, I’m not like that.’
‘There’s three grand here, and I have another two back in my car. I’ll give you the lot if you come back with me?’
She pictured her son Finn at home in bed, dreaming of knights and dragons, unaware of what his mum was doing to put food on the table. She thought about how that five grand would be more than she needed for a car and a few months of petrol.
She was still staring at the cash. ‘I told you: I’m not that kind of girl.’
He refolded the notes and returned them to his pocket, shrugging in disappointment. ‘Oh well, it’s your loss.’ He turned to walk away.
‘Wait!’ she called out, before she could stop herself. ‘Just you, right?’
His grin widened as he turned back to face her. ‘Just you and me.’
‘What exactly is it you want me to do?’
He moved closer; her hand