Her tall figure – broad shoulders, stiff hips and straight back – dwarfed the two Chinese hostesses with her. Her eyes widened in mock disbelief as she glanced at Lucy. Lucy grinned. Candy had no need to worry. She always did well. She lived in an expensive apartment near Tsim Sha Tsui and came to work in the evening to recruit customers for the next day instead. Moving from table to table, she never wanted to be bought out – preferring to make back-to-back appointments for the following day. She was sending the money home to an Italian boyfriend who wanted to open a deli in New York.
Chan dropped Lucy back at the club afterwards. She smiled sweetly and thanked him for his patronage. He wasn’t listening. He was anxious to be rid of her. He was always the same afterwards: curt, cold and callous. He had hurt her, but he didn’t care. He had overstepped the mark, crossed the boundaries, and ignored the signal to stop. Now he couldn’t even look at her. Not because he felt any guilt, but because she repulsed him. Easing herself out of the car, Lucy turned to wave goodbye, but he had already pulled off erratically into the stream of traffic. Lucy wouldn’t be able to work again that night.
19
She packed her evening dress away in her locker, put her leather trousers back on and said her goodbyes to the handful of girls left in the Dressing Room. She had done enough work for one night. It was only when she reached the line of taxis that she decided she wasn’t in the mood to return home just yet – she deserved a little fun after her ordeal. She caught a cab to the Macau ferry terminal, just a short distance away, and boarded the waiting ferry.
The journey would take nearly an hour, but tonight she didn’t mind. Usually she was impatient to arrive; but this time she knew it would give her the time and space to mull things over. Mostly she thought about Georgina, who had just arrived – landed, almost – in their lives. She smiled to herself. Those big hands! That innocent face! She brought out the maternal instinct in Lucy. God knows, that was funny, feeling maternal to a girl just two years younger than herself. But why not? She could take care of them all.
She sat back to take stock of her surroundings and to enjoy the anticipation and the rush of pure adrenalin and excitement that only Macau gave her. Gambling was a need that had grown in her over the last few years. She had become addicted to its thrills, its uncertainty – knowing that she could lose everything she had, or simply win the world. It was a thrill second to none. But it was a deadly game to play. Macau was run, ruined and ruled by triads.
She looked out of the window to see the lights flickering on the horizon. They would be docking soon. She shifted in her seat and smiled to herself. Her buttocks were raw – it had taken her time to get used to it: the pain, the fear. But she had to cut herself a niche in the hostess market. There were just too many pretty Chinese girls out there.
She’d started young – she’d had to, when their alcoholic mother was found floating among the boats in Aberdeen, just another piece of flotsam. Then Lucy had to provide for herself and her little sister. She was twelve when she sold her virginity to a Taiwanese, and when that money ran out she went to work in the clubs. She might not be the best-looking girl but she was one of the smartest. She cottoned on quickly to a dark sadistic side to men that they so desired but never dared ask for. Lucy let them have their heart’s desire – as long as they paid, and paid well. It was a lucrative market. There wasn’t a Caucasian she’d met that didn’t like to inflict pain. Not the Chinese so much, except the ones who were educated abroad like Chan. Middle Eastern men wanted that and nothing else, and the Japanese? Don’t ask! Not only could Lucy perform almost any act of self-degradation, in truth she quite enjoyed it. The sting of smarting flesh, the power
Chan dropped Lucy back at the club afterwards. She smiled sweetly and thanked him for his patronage. He wasn’t listening. He was anxious to be rid of her. He was always the same afterwards: curt, cold and callous. He had hurt her, but he didn’t care. He had overstepped the mark, crossed the boundaries, and ignored the signal to stop. Now he couldn’t even look at her. Not because he felt any guilt, but because she repulsed him. Easing herself out of the car, Lucy turned to wave goodbye, but he had already pulled off erratically into the stream of traffic. Lucy wouldn’t be able to work again that night.
19
She packed her evening dress away in her locker, put her leather trousers back on and said her goodbyes to the handful of girls left in the Dressing Room. She had done enough work for one night. It was only when she reached the line of taxis that she decided she wasn’t in the mood to return home just yet – she deserved a little fun after her ordeal. She caught a cab to the Macau ferry terminal, just a short distance away, and boarded the waiting ferry.
The journey would take nearly an hour, but tonight she didn’t mind. Usually she was impatient to arrive; but this time she knew it would give her the time and space to mull things over. Mostly she thought about Georgina, who had just arrived – landed, almost – in their lives. She smiled to herself. Those big hands! That innocent face! She brought out the maternal instinct in Lucy. God knows, that was funny, feeling maternal to a girl just two years younger than herself. But why not? She could take care of them all.
She sat back to take stock of her surroundings and to enjoy the anticipation and the rush of pure adrenalin and excitement that only Macau gave her. Gambling was a need that had grown in her over the last few years. She had become addicted to its thrills, its uncertainty – knowing that she could lose everything she had, or simply win the world. It was a thrill second to none. But it was a deadly game to play. Macau was run, ruined and ruled by triads.
She looked out of the window to see the lights flickering on the horizon. They would be docking soon. She shifted in her seat and smiled to herself. Her buttocks were raw – it had taken her time to get used to it: the pain, the fear. But she had to cut herself a niche in the hostess market. There were just too many pretty Chinese girls out there.
She’d started young – she’d had to, when their alcoholic mother was found floating among the boats in Aberdeen, just another piece of flotsam. Then Lucy had to provide for herself and her little sister. She was twelve when she sold her virginity to a Taiwanese, and when that money ran out she went to work in the clubs. She might not be the best-looking girl but she was one of the smartest. She cottoned on quickly to a dark sadistic side to men that they so desired but never dared ask for. Lucy let them have their heart’s desire – as long as they paid, and paid well. It was a lucrative market. There wasn’t a Caucasian she’d met that didn’t like to inflict pain. Not the Chinese so much, except the ones who were educated abroad like Chan. Middle Eastern men wanted that and nothing else, and the Japanese? Don’t ask! Not only could Lucy perform almost any act of self-degradation, in truth she quite enjoyed it. The sting of smarting flesh, the power
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