Chapter 2

Chapter Two

My palms aresweaty as the calling icon flashes up on my screen.

I expect Ebony will look different on video call – due to the power of filters on most people’s profile pictures, but no. She’s smiling as she appears and sure, her profile pictures are taken from a flattering side angle, but it’s no major distortion. She has beautiful brunette hair, mixed with blonde, perfectly shaped lips and great cheekbones. She has to be at least thirty, and she’s so confident it shines through the screen.

I wish I was dressed for a night out, not sitting on my bed in a crumpled work uniform.

I notice her perfectly manicured fingernails as she waves. “Hey there! Wow, you actually look like your profile picture, you know that? Quite a surprise.”

I laugh. “I was just thinking exactly the same thing about you. You look amazing.”

“Thanks. You’d hope so, given how much budget I give to it. Work expenses and all that.” Her smirk turns serious. “I’m really sorry the wank face you were with fucked you over. Screw the rock idol. He’ll regret it, don’t worry. He’ll come running back.”

I lean against my headboard, laptop propped on my thighs. I let out a sigh that comes right from the bottom of my soul.

“Wank face can regret it all he likes. I’m not taking him back. I’ve already given him seven years of my life, so he can fuck off. He can make it to the top of the rock industry for all I care, I’d still give him the middle finger. He’s no rock idol to me. I’m done with it.”

I’m surprised at how resolute I sound, but the rage is there, like molten magma, burning in the pit of me. I glance at his shitty bag in the corner. Yep. That thing is definitely going in the fucking dumpster.

Ebony gives me a thumbs up. “You’ve got real fire there. I love it.”

“Fire and fury. Both, in magnitudes.”

“Whatever works to get you through it.”

“Yeah, some more softly focused therapy can come later, when I have the luxury of money and time. Right now, I’d rather just hate his guts.”

“When you have the luxury of money and time, you can have therapy on the beach with your parents.” Her grin is lovely. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To go to theirs for Christmas? They’re in Australia?”

Hearing it spoken out loud touches a nerve. The image of Mum and Dad flashes across my eyes, and that’s what I want, at any cost. To be with them. I need to be with them this Christmas.

The fury and flames are still there, but a stab of pain jabs through the heat.

I nod at Ebony, and then I pluck up the courage. “Can you help? I mean… I know you do sex work for some kind of agency, and you said it pays really well. I’d love to try it. Honestly. I’d love to at least get the chance.”

“It does pay well, yeah. And it can be great fun, if you’re really up for it.” She pauses. “Do you think you’re ready to fuck other people, though? You wouldn’t freak out when it came to it?”

I’ve got no reservations on that score. I need to do it, for my sex drive as well as my bank account. I may be nervous as fuck when it came to doing someone who is paying me, but I’ll get used to it. I’m a resilient girl.

I have to let Ebony know that.

“I’m definitely ready to fuck other people. I love sex too much to stop. Messing around with toys every night just isn’t going to cut it.” I go for honesty. “If I’m not going to be fucking Connor, I’m going to be fucking random guys I pick up in bars or online. Whatever, really. Even in the cereal aisle at work, it doesn’t matter. It’s not going to mean anything. I don’t want to settle down, or meet anyone serious, or get tied up in some new sappy relationship. I just want sex. Lots of sex.”

She looks right at me. “And so you may as well get paid for it, right?”

I go for honesty again. “Connor left me with a shit ton of debt. On my crappy wages, it’s impossible. I’m living on pasta, miserable as fuck, and really would love nothing more than to clear that shitty debt and visit my parents for Christmas. So yes, I’d love to get paid for it.”

“You’re living on pasta? Really?”

I sigh. “Mainly, yeah, but my daily bowl of pasta is the least of my worries.”

“You really think your mind’s in the right place to satisfy clients? No offence intended but I can feel your rage, babe. It might not be the best time to go for it, and fucking clients isn’t quite the same as pulling people in bars. These guys aren’t often Prince Charmings looking out for their soulmate.”

“No, I get that, don’t worry.”

“So, you could do it? You really think so?”

I think of all the sex toys in my drawer, and how well I paste my smile on at work every day. I nod to Ebony. Confident.

“Believe me. Yes, I can do it. I’ll make sure I leave clients very, very satisfied. Don’t worry.”

Ebony laughs. “Good for you. If you’re really sure you’re up for it, I can introduce you to the agency. And believe me, you’d have plenty of clients. They’re crying out for hot goth girls. I’ve even considered dying my hair black, but my clients know me too well. I couldn’t pull off being a goth chick.”

“They want girls like me?! At your agency? Seriously?”

“Hell, yeah. You’d be so inundated with proposals, you’d be reading them all day long.” I must look confused, and she twigs, shaking her head. “Sorry, I forget. You don’t know how the agency works.”

“No, I have no idea. You get proposals? You mean, it’s a kind of dating app? People set up a profile and message asking if I want to fuck them? Swipe left or right?”

“No, no. It doesn’t work like that,” she says. “Not even close. It’s all online and incognito. Our clients are vetted, confidentiality assured, of course. So are we. Would you be happy with that? Being checked out? Think of it like an interview. They’ll require a copy of your ID, and do checks in the background, and they’ll need to be sure you’re really suitable for this kind of role. We also have to undergo STI tests every month, and send the results over. So do the clients.”

“Yeah. I get it. It makes sense. I’d be ok with that.”

“If you’re offered an account, you tailor it yourself. You put some pics up, an intro video, and you work through the list of kinks, selecting which ones you’d be open to.”

“A list of kinks?”

“Yeah, we call it the naughty list. Especially relevant at this time of year.”

“No shit.”

Her giggle makes me smile. “I’m definitely a bad girl as far as Santa is concerned. He won’t be climbing down my chimney.” She laughs. “Still, a client who looks like Santa might be given the opportunity… he can give me a ho ho ho and unload his sack however he likes. I’m not picky, as long as the cash is right.”

There’s something about Ebony that draws me in and cracks me up. A lilt in her voice, so natural and so funny. No wonder clients go crazy over her.

“Sorry,” she says when we stop giggling. “Right, yes. The naughty list. It’s quite a detailed one. You’ve got your staples, of course – they don’t give you an account if you don’t tick the staples. BJs, being eaten out, pussy fucking. The rest is up to you. Most people have anal as standard, but the list goes on and on.”

I’m fascinated by the idea of this list… I wonder what else could be on there.

“How dirty does it get?”

“Oh, baby, trust me. It gets filthy. As filthy as can be. And the money associated with that shit… holy crap. We call those agents the hardcorers. They are really something.” She smirks. “Think you could be one?”

I shrug. “I dunno, I’m pretty filthy.”

“There are plenty of shades of filthy.”

I smirk back at her. “I’d say I’d be ticking quite a few naughty list boxes.”

I look at her eyes, so alive. She’s vivacious. Entertaining. Confident. Everything I was before I let Connor drag me down into the shit with him. I want that back. I want myself back, if I even had myself without Connor in the first place. It’s been a long time.

I imagine the list there in front of me, and all of the things I’ve done. All of the things I’ve fantasised about. Everything from BDSM, to sex with another girl once, to outdoor play, to getting it on in public, to fucking a few of Connor’s band friends in front of him when I was younger – and drunk. Connor and I jumped headfirst into everything, and I loved him for it.

Ebony carries on explaining things.

“Clients send you a message through your account profile, telling you what they want, and how much they’re willing to pay for it. You click yes, or no, and if you give it a yes, you arrange a booking on the calendar app. The terms are filed and the contract is logged. The agency takes twenty percent, and you get the rest. The client pays the agency, not you. They never know who you are. Not in real life. And you never tell them. The same goes in reverse.”

“And the agency just sends the cash through? Just like that? It appears in your bank account?”

“Yeah. Just like any other employment agency. We’re in entertainment, professionally speaking. It’s just the operational side that’s a little more, um, underground.”

I almost laugh to myself. I’d be an entertainer. A more successful one than Connor, as it stands. I imagine him there in Camden, with Carly cheering and listening to his ‘heartfelt’ lyrics. Bullshit, self-obsessed, wallowing. I’d rather make a load of cash having someone stretch my pussy with two dildos, than listen to him wail about the woes of emotional politics into a microphone.

“Do you want me to do it, then?” Ebony asks. “Shall I get the agency to contact you? The interview would be on video call, but they’d have their cameras off. It would just be you who’d be visible. They’re great, I promise. You’d get to meet some of the other entertainers as well, if you’re signed up. We have private chat where we talk about things. It’s a good crew.”

There’s no doubt about it… I need that naughty list. I’ll tick every damn box I can tick.

“Yes,” I tell Ebony, with a grateful smile. “As soon as you can, please. I have a plane to catch, after all.”

“On it,” she replies and I see her typing, looking at a window off to the side. She asks for my email address, and wants me to send her some pictures of myself, which I do. I stare dumbfounded as she keeps on typing. I can’t believe this is really happening.

“Done,” she says. “Orla is going to be in touch with you. She’s looking you up now.”

“Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. I’d best be going. I’ve got to get a cab to Ealing. My client’s already in his hotel room. My husband’s putting our two little terrors to bed tonight while Mummy gets busy.”

“Right,” I say, my smile so bright. “Have fun.”

A wave from Ebony and she’s gone.

I don’t have to wait long. A notification comes up at the side of my screen just a few minutes later. A meeting request with Orla Brown for tomorrow night.

My fucking God, I’m shaking with excitement when I click the accept button.

It’s only later that night when the nerves kick in hardcore, filled with what ifs and a serious amount of stomach churning, but that’s ok. I ease them off by sliding my hand down under the covers, and thinking about the naughty list instead…

I’m going to make sure I succeed at this. I have to.