Rumours were rife. A take-over of Trends Radio parent company was imminent. The international consortium involved were known to be ruthless cost-cutters. Nobody and nothing would be safe. Jobs were on the line and employees eyed their colleagues with suspicion. Plotting and double-dealing became the norm with everybody looking out for number one.
After a month of uncertainty rumour became fact and redundancy notices began to be issued. Rachel knew she was doomed. Desmond had grown colder towards her with each passing day, especially since giving her a strong hint that if she played ball and let him fuck her, he would be prepared to lobby for her retainment. She had flatly refused. As a result, she was almost the first to be dismissed.
Her final pay was boosted by a redundancy payment, but it amounted to very little when the cost of living was taken into account. She needed to find another job and quickly. Her salary had never been sufficiently high to allow her to save much, especially as she enjoyed spending.
Looking through the job adverts she found very little of any use to her. She applied for a couple of jobs offering a reasonable remuneration, but to no avail. There were jobs to be found in pubs and restaurants, but the financial reward was inadequate, apart from her total dislike of any such work. With nothing better on offer she became a waitress in a pizza bar and hated every minute of it. The crunch came on a Friday when a pay packet was put into her hand and she saw just how little she received. Rachel realised that a shortfall of income over outgoings could not be permanently maintained. A solution came when she read an article in a magazine.
The author was a twenty-six year old single mother who was unable to work during the daytime because of child minding problems. The evenings provided no problem, so she began to look for a job to suit her particular needs. She tried bar work, but liked neither the environment nor the pay, and then office cleaning, which was even less to her taste. Eventually she joined an escort agency and found it to be an agreeable way to make a good deal of money.
The article set Rachel thinking and she decided to investigate. Looking in the Yellow Pages she came across Brill Escorts. She picked up the phone.....and put it down again, wondering if this was really such a good idea. Five minutes of arguing with herself that it was and she dialled the number. She was put through to a Mr Johnson who made an appointment to see her and gave her directions to their office. The first step had been taken.
When she arrived at the appointed hour, Rachel thought she must be in the wrong place and checked the address. It was right. She drove her car into a dingy yard through an entrance no longer guarded by a gate. It lay on its side amongst a pile of similar junk. There were already several cars parked there, some of them brand new models with the most recent registration.
The building was old and dilapidated, once being part of a warehouse complex which had been closed for many years. The whole area was desolate and unprepossessing. Rachel mounted an iron staircase clinging to the outside of the building and was faced by a plain white door, badly in need of paint. A simple notice indicated that this was the headquarters of Brill Escorts and gave a telephone number. The door was locked, but there was voice communication by means of a buzzer.
Rachel pressed.
"Hello." It was a girl's voice.
"Erm....Rachel Cooper to see Mr. Johnson."
"Just a sec."
A short wait then a low buzz followed by a click. Rachel tried the door and, sure enough, it opened to admit her into a narrow corridor leading to another door; this one was not locked. She entered a large office full of tables, chairs and filing cabinets. Each table held a telephone, a computer terminal and several copies of the brochure. Many of the tables were occupied, mostly by young women, but there were also a couple of men, both of them busy on the phone. Without ceasing their chatter they both waved a greeting to the new arrival.
"Hi." A pretty girl dressed in tight fitting white jeans with a black lace trim top revealing her bare midriff gave a friendly greeting. "I'm Clarissa. Clarrie for short."
"Hello."
"Freddie's expecting you."
"Freddie?"
"Mr. Johnson. The boss."
"Oh, of course."
Rachel was shown into a small inner sanctum with little furniture and a lot of disarray. One thing was for sure; Brill Escorts didn't go out of their way to make a good impression on a visitor.
A stocky young man greeted her with a wide smile and warm hand shake. He was not what Rachel would describe as a dish, a rather long, thin nose and a mass of frizzled hair being his most noticeable features, but he had an attractive personality, which more than compensated for his average looks.
"Ms Cooper. How nice to meet you."
They shook hands and Freddie Johnson indicated a chair. She sat, crossing her legs. Her short skirt rode up her thighs, revealing the top of her stockings. He looked admiringly at the exposed flesh.
"Very nice." Johnson flicked a chair round, so it faced away from Rachel and straddled it, putting his arms along the back. "This reminds me of the scene in 'Basic Instinct'. Are you familiar with the film?"
"Yes."
"Sharon Stone is taken to the police station for questioning and she sits facing a group of detectives. She crosses her legs....." he indicated Rachel. "...just like that, and they all go pop-eyed. During the course of the interview she changes her position, crossing them the other way. As she does so you see up her crotch. She's not wearing knickers and you can see her slit; just briefly. The trick is to stop the DVD at just the right moment and then you get a really good view. All is revealed."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm wearing panties."
"Um." Johnson slowly nodded his head. He suddenly assumed a more business-like manner. "Let me explain how all this works. I run a small, but up and coming escort agency. This may not look much, but we don't need fancy offices because our business is done on the telephone and computer. Clients are not invited to pay us a visit, so we keep it plain and simple."
He popped a small sweet into his mouth. "I've given up smoking, but it's devilishly hard."
"I can imagine."
"You've never smoked?"
"No."
"Very wise." Johnson rolled the sweet around on his tongue for a few moments. "We're nothing more than an information service. We publish a catalogue of the escorts, both male and female, on our books." He picked one up and flicked through the pages. "A client asks for one of these, chooses someone he - or she - fancies, and gives us a ring or sends an e-mail. We then inform the escort who contacts the client and makes arrangements to meet. The firm gets a fee for the introduction using a credit or debit card. We don't get involved in those arrangements."
"This may sound naive, Mr Johnson....."
"Call me Freddie."
Rachel smiled. "....Freddie, but what exactly is expected from an escort?"
He spread his hands. "Just that, as far as we're concerned. If a girl, at the end of the night, charges a client extra money for extra services, that's up to her. We're not profiting from those services or from that money."
"What do I get for being an escort?"
"Fifty pounds an hour. There are all sorts of clients, with different expectations. The ages of our escorts ranges from eighteen to forty-five and they can earn between two and three hundred pounds a night. Sound good to you?"
"Sounds interesting."
"Are you ready to join our happy little band or do you want more time to think about it?"
Rachel shook her head. "I don't need more time."
"You understand that as far as I'm concerned you're an escort, pure and simple."
"Yes."
"You're at liberty to refuse a booking and whatever happens between you and the client is completely your business. Sex is not on the menu unless you decide to put it there and Brill Escorts has no financial participation."
"You've already made that quite clear."
Johnson smiled. "I'm reiterating it so there's no misunderstanding. Were you asked to bring photographs?"
