position.
Yes, he liked her a lot - and that was not something he’d ever have expected to say of a murderess.
Joey Carr was big, fat and ugly. His mother had once remarked that at his birth the midwife had slapped his face instead of his arse. Joey had thought this hilarious and repeated the story to friends and enemies alike.
He was a self-made man with no scruples, no feelings and no morals. His clubs were seedy dives for seedy people and he understood that fact and revelled in it. He drove a gold Rolls-Royce, had enough diamond rings on his pudgy fingers to keep a family in luxury for a year, and wasn’t the greatest at personal hygiene.
He took one look at Tiffany in her school uniform and thick make-up and grinned widely. She was just his cup of tea: young, scared and desperate to make some money.
‘Tiffany, ain’t it?’
He had a gravelly voice from the fat Churchill cigars he smoked constantly. They had made his teeth brown and his breath stink. Again, not things that bothered him. He bought company and knew that if the price was right he could buy any female company he wanted.
This girl was about to put out for a job even if she didn’t realise it yet.
‘Show me your tits, love.’
‘Eh?’
Tiffany was shocked at the barefaced cheek of the remark.
‘Show me your tits. I need to see what the punters will see, don’t I?’
She undid her blouse slowly.
‘Pop them out of the bra. You’ll be naked round the pole, love, so I need to see the goods properly. If you have stretch marks we have professional cover-up you can buy at trade price, OK? I know you have a kiddie.’
He was so matter-of-fact it made Tiffany relax a bit. He was only doing his job. Eventually she was naked before him. His office was cold and her whole body was shivering as she stood there.
He walked around her as if she was a horse he was going to buy. She half expected him to look at her teeth. She put her mind on
46
auto-pilot and concentrated on the office around her. It was lovely, all mahogany desk and thick pile carpet. He obviously liked his comforts.
As his hands squeezed her breasts she closed her eyes.
‘You’ll do. A bit on the scrawny side, but the older men like that. You are over sixteen?’
‘Of course!’
‘Well, that cunt Patrick brings me babes in arms sometimes. Fucking jail bait!’
She ignored what he was saying. She really didn’t want to know. He sat at his desk and surveyed her.
‘You could earn in excess of three hundred a night dancing from seven-thirty till two-thirty in the morning. You can earn more. I take twenty per cent and for that the bouncers keep the beady on you in case you have hag, whatever. As the drink flows, the abuse grows. One of the girls coined that phrase and it’s true. So be prepared. Now then, do you want the job?’
She nodded hesitantly and smiled. Over a grand a week! What she couldn’t do with that.
He started to undo his trousers and she watched him in amazement. He was already erect. She looked into his little piggy eyes.
‘Well, come on then, it’s fucking freezing in here. You do this as and when I request it as part of the deal, OK? It gets you the front tables, the real earning tables, so get your laughing gear round that and stop playing the wilting fucking virgin.’
Tiffany hesitated and he began to replace his member in his pants.
‘Fair enough, love. But in excess of a grand a week is sitting here and you should think long and hard about that.’
She walked over to him and dropped down on to her knees. She just prayed she wouldn’t throw up all over his nice carpet.
This was for her daughter, for her child.
It was the same thing her mother had told herself many years before, though Tiffany didn’t know that.
Ten minutes later he gave her a glass of brandy. The burning sensation was worth it. Someone had once told her that alcohol was like bleach, it killed bugs and germs. She hoped it was true.
Tiffany couldn’t bring herself to
Yes, he liked her a lot - and that was not something he’d ever have expected to say of a murderess.
Joey Carr was big, fat and ugly. His mother had once remarked that at his birth the midwife had slapped his face instead of his arse. Joey had thought this hilarious and repeated the story to friends and enemies alike.
He was a self-made man with no scruples, no feelings and no morals. His clubs were seedy dives for seedy people and he understood that fact and revelled in it. He drove a gold Rolls-Royce, had enough diamond rings on his pudgy fingers to keep a family in luxury for a year, and wasn’t the greatest at personal hygiene.
He took one look at Tiffany in her school uniform and thick make-up and grinned widely. She was just his cup of tea: young, scared and desperate to make some money.
‘Tiffany, ain’t it?’
He had a gravelly voice from the fat Churchill cigars he smoked constantly. They had made his teeth brown and his breath stink. Again, not things that bothered him. He bought company and knew that if the price was right he could buy any female company he wanted.
This girl was about to put out for a job even if she didn’t realise it yet.
‘Show me your tits, love.’
‘Eh?’
Tiffany was shocked at the barefaced cheek of the remark.
‘Show me your tits. I need to see what the punters will see, don’t I?’
She undid her blouse slowly.
‘Pop them out of the bra. You’ll be naked round the pole, love, so I need to see the goods properly. If you have stretch marks we have professional cover-up you can buy at trade price, OK? I know you have a kiddie.’
He was so matter-of-fact it made Tiffany relax a bit. He was only doing his job. Eventually she was naked before him. His office was cold and her whole body was shivering as she stood there.
He walked around her as if she was a horse he was going to buy. She half expected him to look at her teeth. She put her mind on
46
auto-pilot and concentrated on the office around her. It was lovely, all mahogany desk and thick pile carpet. He obviously liked his comforts.
As his hands squeezed her breasts she closed her eyes.
‘You’ll do. A bit on the scrawny side, but the older men like that. You are over sixteen?’
‘Of course!’
‘Well, that cunt Patrick brings me babes in arms sometimes. Fucking jail bait!’
She ignored what he was saying. She really didn’t want to know. He sat at his desk and surveyed her.
‘You could earn in excess of three hundred a night dancing from seven-thirty till two-thirty in the morning. You can earn more. I take twenty per cent and for that the bouncers keep the beady on you in case you have hag, whatever. As the drink flows, the abuse grows. One of the girls coined that phrase and it’s true. So be prepared. Now then, do you want the job?’
She nodded hesitantly and smiled. Over a grand a week! What she couldn’t do with that.
He started to undo his trousers and she watched him in amazement. He was already erect. She looked into his little piggy eyes.
‘Well, come on then, it’s fucking freezing in here. You do this as and when I request it as part of the deal, OK? It gets you the front tables, the real earning tables, so get your laughing gear round that and stop playing the wilting fucking virgin.’
Tiffany hesitated and he began to replace his member in his pants.
‘Fair enough, love. But in excess of a grand a week is sitting here and you should think long and hard about that.’
She walked over to him and dropped down on to her knees. She just prayed she wouldn’t throw up all over his nice carpet.
This was for her daughter, for her child.
It was the same thing her mother had told herself many years before, though Tiffany didn’t know that.
Ten minutes later he gave her a glass of brandy. The burning sensation was worth it. Someone had once told her that alcohol was like bleach, it killed bugs and germs. She hoped it was true.
Tiffany couldn’t bring herself to
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