then screeched as she heard her number called over the tannoy:
‘ NUMBER 169,MISS LUCY … NUMBER 169,MISS LUCY …’
She doubled back and squirmed through the waiting girls to meet her mamasan on the other side of the velvet curtain.
‘You must be good girl now, Lucy.’ Mamasan Linda held on to Lucy’s hand and trotted ahead like a mother escorting a naughty child to receive judgement from a waiting father.
They wound their way through half-full tables, past the Filipino band singing the Police song ‘Don’t stand so close to me’ quite earnestly, considering that a consignment of blow had arrived that day from Manila, past a man from Taipei who was on the dance floor clinging pathetically to the pencil-thin, Lycra-slippery hips of his young date while the changing light patterns on the dance floor stole his drunken feet from beneath him. And past Bernadette, who was leaping from foot to foot in a frenzy of chiffon. Her hair sat rigid on her head like deep-fried roadkill, while the rest of her body hopped madly around the dance floor. Lucy remembered going out on a double date with Bernadette. What a nightmare! She recalled Bernadette straddling a diminutive Taiwanese, his face exploding like a bullfrog on heat at every squeeze of those massive white thighs. Lucy had had to drag her off at the end of the evening with her screaming, But I haven’t feckin’ come yet!
Mamasan Linda stopped in her tracks and turned back to talk to Lucy. She lowered her voice.
‘He’s a good customer. He’s come back many times and asked for you. Look after him, okay? Be a clever girl, huh? Big VIP. He owns all this.’ She swept her hands in the air theatrically.
Lucy gave her a ‘teach grandma to suck eggs’ look and fell into a trot behind her again, following the red and gold cheongsam swishing hypnotically from side to side. They approached a booth that was situated to the back of the club, in the VIP section, overlooking the semicircular dance floor.
‘Here she is.’ Mamasan Linda let go of Lucy’s hand and pushed her forward. ‘Here is Lucy.’
Lucy smiled and slipped in behind the round table until her thigh made contact with her client’s. She studied him but her eyes were still adjusting to the gloom and it took time to recognise him as the man who had bought her out a couple of weeks before and a few times before that. It took time to place body with face – to transcend the gap between leaving the club and leaving the Love Motel. Then she placed him and a surge of adrenalin went through her as she remembered his peculiar tastes that had taken some time to heal.
Chan spent his evenings doing the rounds of the hostess clubs. He was son-in-law to C. K. Leung, the Dragon Head of the Wo Shing Shing triad organisation – the most powerful society in Hong Kong. It was Chan’s job to oversee some of the Wo Shing Shing’s many business concerns and, at the same time, he liked to cherry-pick any new young hostesses who had just come on the market. Chan had a bent towards pubescent girls. He liked his girls to be girls. Surprising then, that he had asked for Lucy, she wasn’t really his type – too fat and certainly, at twenty-four, too old. But tonight he had come looking for her. He had need of her quite extraordinary talents.
‘So, Lucy, how’s things?’
‘Good evening, Mr Chan. Everything is good, thank you. It’s nice to see you again.’
Lucy smiled, met his eyes, and began her usual routine. She feigned ‘coy mistress’ mixed with ‘sure bet’ in as few seconds as she could. The act was wasted. He was busy signalling to Mamasan Linda that he would be buying Lucy out and he was ready to leave.
‘Go change, quick-quick,’ she said, appearing beside the table.
Lucy stood up and left the two to negotiate.
‘See you in a minute, Mr Chan,’ she said. He didn’t answer. He was already busy with his wallet.
On the way she met Candy en route to one of the VIP suites at the back of the club.
‘ NUMBER 169,MISS LUCY … NUMBER 169,MISS LUCY …’
She doubled back and squirmed through the waiting girls to meet her mamasan on the other side of the velvet curtain.
‘You must be good girl now, Lucy.’ Mamasan Linda held on to Lucy’s hand and trotted ahead like a mother escorting a naughty child to receive judgement from a waiting father.
They wound their way through half-full tables, past the Filipino band singing the Police song ‘Don’t stand so close to me’ quite earnestly, considering that a consignment of blow had arrived that day from Manila, past a man from Taipei who was on the dance floor clinging pathetically to the pencil-thin, Lycra-slippery hips of his young date while the changing light patterns on the dance floor stole his drunken feet from beneath him. And past Bernadette, who was leaping from foot to foot in a frenzy of chiffon. Her hair sat rigid on her head like deep-fried roadkill, while the rest of her body hopped madly around the dance floor. Lucy remembered going out on a double date with Bernadette. What a nightmare! She recalled Bernadette straddling a diminutive Taiwanese, his face exploding like a bullfrog on heat at every squeeze of those massive white thighs. Lucy had had to drag her off at the end of the evening with her screaming, But I haven’t feckin’ come yet!
Mamasan Linda stopped in her tracks and turned back to talk to Lucy. She lowered her voice.
‘He’s a good customer. He’s come back many times and asked for you. Look after him, okay? Be a clever girl, huh? Big VIP. He owns all this.’ She swept her hands in the air theatrically.
Lucy gave her a ‘teach grandma to suck eggs’ look and fell into a trot behind her again, following the red and gold cheongsam swishing hypnotically from side to side. They approached a booth that was situated to the back of the club, in the VIP section, overlooking the semicircular dance floor.
‘Here she is.’ Mamasan Linda let go of Lucy’s hand and pushed her forward. ‘Here is Lucy.’
Lucy smiled and slipped in behind the round table until her thigh made contact with her client’s. She studied him but her eyes were still adjusting to the gloom and it took time to recognise him as the man who had bought her out a couple of weeks before and a few times before that. It took time to place body with face – to transcend the gap between leaving the club and leaving the Love Motel. Then she placed him and a surge of adrenalin went through her as she remembered his peculiar tastes that had taken some time to heal.
Chan spent his evenings doing the rounds of the hostess clubs. He was son-in-law to C. K. Leung, the Dragon Head of the Wo Shing Shing triad organisation – the most powerful society in Hong Kong. It was Chan’s job to oversee some of the Wo Shing Shing’s many business concerns and, at the same time, he liked to cherry-pick any new young hostesses who had just come on the market. Chan had a bent towards pubescent girls. He liked his girls to be girls. Surprising then, that he had asked for Lucy, she wasn’t really his type – too fat and certainly, at twenty-four, too old. But tonight he had come looking for her. He had need of her quite extraordinary talents.
‘So, Lucy, how’s things?’
‘Good evening, Mr Chan. Everything is good, thank you. It’s nice to see you again.’
Lucy smiled, met his eyes, and began her usual routine. She feigned ‘coy mistress’ mixed with ‘sure bet’ in as few seconds as she could. The act was wasted. He was busy signalling to Mamasan Linda that he would be buying Lucy out and he was ready to leave.
‘Go change, quick-quick,’ she said, appearing beside the table.
Lucy stood up and left the two to negotiate.
‘See you in a minute, Mr Chan,’ she said. He didn’t answer. He was already busy with his wallet.
On the way she met Candy en route to one of the VIP suites at the back of the club.
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