I'd read all the stories either before they were published, in the case of Angel, Jewel and Silvie and after the fact in the case of Fleur and little Fiona. I'd read the last two partly out of interest and partly curiosity and concern. I like to think that I care about my girls and that I'm protective towards them. They are all young and sometimes over-eager and innocent and I didn't want them to come to any harm. I was especially so after I read Fiona's chapter.
I called her into my office as soon as I'd read it to have a long talk to her. As had become traditional I sat her on my lap, with an arm round her. Despite being 22 she was very petite and looked several years younger and I had worried at the time if that might attract the wrong sort of client. As it turned out she became very popular with a set of ladies with very different requirements. She told me in no uncertain terms that her first night had been one of the best nights ever and was a bit shocked that I was so concerned. She'd loved every minute of it and was anxious that the client asked for her again soon. Indeed, she was hoping that others would soon join the client list. I felt a weight lifted off me as she was genuinely sincere in how she felt.
Over the next few days, during idle times, I re-read the stories one by one. The client list was slowly growing, almost organically, without the need to advertise it which was ideal. I was happy for existing clients to pass on the news about the new service which was on offer. More and more enquiring phone calls came in, but I was as careful with interviewing the clients as I was with the girls, but they were a self-selecting group and existing clients were careful only to recommend friends that they trusted. This all got me to thinking. All the stories, apart from my own of course, had been written by the girls. What was missing was one from the point of view of the client.
I hummed and hawed for a long time trying to decide who to ask. Although an obvious first choice was Marjorie, she wasn't really typical. We'd known each other well before I started the Agency. She still helped me out sometimes with the interview process and was happy to fork out good money to do so but, of course, I never charged her the introduction fee although she always made sure the girl of the evening was well rewarded. Another possible was a woman called Annabel who I did a deal with. She was a professional photographer and I hired her to take portraits of each of the girls in exchange for a free introduction to one of them. She was delighted with the deal and even came back a couple more times to savour different delights. But, again, she wasn't a typical fee-paying client. I asked a couple of others and they declined and then I found one who was returning for a second bite of the cherry.
She was in her early forties and always very well turned out. I'm not exactly sure what she does for a living, but I believe she's some sort of corporate trouble-shooter. The sort of person you send in to shake things up with a firm that isn't performing. She had both beauty and a good business brain, a lethal combination as a negotiating tool and was obviously good at her job. She confessed to me when I first mentioned my idea that she had secret ambitions when it came to writing. She'd published a slim volume of short stories under a pseudonym that had been well received. She gladly accepted my challenge on the condition that it came out under her pseudonym, a condition I was happy to accept. So, here is her story.
The Client's story. Miss Monroe.
Why Mrs.B, as everyone knows her, asked me to do this I have no idea. I hadn't even heard that some of the girl's stories were on the internet. I looked them up and read them with interest and, although they'd changed their names, I thought I could recognise a couple of them. It was interesting to find out how the Agency, as we all call it, got started. I'd found out about it via a friend of mine and, after some initial trepidation, I was very glad that I did.
I don't live in the town, but my work means that I have to visit quite regularly. After a day of stress trying to negotiate with intransigent and stubborn people, I was always grateful to relax and treat myself to a good dinner before going back to my lonely hotel room. One thing about that town was its supply of top-quality restaurants but there was always something missing. I wasn't in town to make friends. In fact, most of the time I was dealing with people who were opposed to my being there. The consequence was that I always ended up dining alone with only an empty chair opposite me for company.
I happened to mention it to a colleague and old friend one day and her face brightened into a smile immediately. What I needed, according to her, was a companion for the evening and she knew just where I could find one and put me in touch with the Agency. I'd never even thought of using a professional escort before and baulked at the idea, but she was so enthusiastic that she persuaded me to give them a try. I phoned up and this rather stern-voiced woman asked me to come in so that we could discuss it.
It felt a little seedy as I walked up the narrow alley and the tatty door with the peeling paint didn't help the image. When I pressed the buzzer on the intercom it was even more drab inside. Things have changed a lot since then and I think it might have been my comments that made her smarten the place up. First impressions are absolutely important.
The owner of the stern voice on the phone proved to be a woman about the same age as me, maybe a little older, who greeted me warmly. She seemed to be running things all on her own. I was guided into an inner office and directed to a deep and comfy armchair while she sat on a sofa opposite me. She gave me a bit of an interrogation that first time and I have since worked out why. She needed to be cautious about who she took on as clients as discretion was vital. After some time, she seemed satisfied that I wasn't some mad female serial killer or, worse still, a journalist or from the authorities. She relaxed, and we started to talk about what I was looking for as a dinner companion.
With the aid of some very amateurish snaps that she had loaded onto a tablet we narrowed down my choices. The much smarter portfolio of professional portraits had yet to be commissioned. It was still very early days. The fee she was charging took me back a bit, but she started to explain what she was offering. She would introduce me to a young girl and then it was up to me to negotiate anything extra after that although she did make suggestions as to suitable 'donations' I could make to the girl's future. The girl she'd suggested was very pretty and just my type. If asked I could pass her off as my daughter as she was also blonde and had a vaguely similar face. I'd had a hard day so in the end I thought, what the hell, let's go for it.
The girl I selected, with helpful suggestions from Mrs.B, was called Miranda. She was 25 which is slightly older than most of the girls on offer, but I was assured that I'd be in safe hands. I found out later that she was Mrs.B's go-to girl for first time clients. After we'd sorted out her introduction fee we sat and chatted about trivial things for a while. I got the impression that she enjoyed what she was doing and was sincere about her aims. From a business point of view, I admired that. I did mention her image and she readily agreed with me that the place needed a facelift. By the time of my second visit things had changed dramatically into what you would see today.
I finally said goodbye and went back to my hotel to shower and change. I also phoned the restaurant that was already booked to tell them that there would be a plus one with me. As expected, that proved to be no problem as I already had a table for two booked. I hadn't brought anything special in my overnight bag as I wasn't expecting company in the evening, so I had to settle for my slightly conservative, standard black evening dress that I took everywhere. I arrived at the restaurant early so that Miranda, when she arrived, would not feel out of place.
I'd used this place several times before because, although it was expensive, the food was spectacular. It also had one of the cutest and sexiest servers I'd ever come across. Her name was Monique and I'd been flirting outrageously with her on every visit. She seemed to enjoy the attention which only made me try even harder. Tonight was no exception, and she made no objection when I 'accidentally' brushed my hand against her. When she brought me my drink, I was sure another button of her white blouse had come undone and she leaned over a little too much when she served my drink. I couldn't help looking down the front of her blouse and could clearly see that she wasn't wearing a bra and she was proudly showing off the obvious swellings of her small breasts. I was beginning to regret splashing out all that money for a companion when Miranda arrived.
She was even prettier than her photo. She didn't seem fazed by the reputation of the restaurant, in fact she seemed to be known to the staff. I guessed I wasn't the first client that she'd met here. She certainly knew Monique as they chatted like old friends as she was guided to my table. I stood up and greeted her with a formal kiss on each cheek. Monique moved her chair from the far side to seat her next to me. This seemed to be standard practice and I was a little embarrassed to think that all the staff seemed to know what was going on.
