The Book Group Ch 02

Emily's Story

Emily lived in an Edwardian half-timbered semi quite close to the school. The elegant wooden porch was already decorated with twinkling lights, making it look even more like a Christmas card. She was still trying to settle her youngest down as the group began to arrive. They gathered in the chintzy lounge dominated by a large fir tree filling the bay window. Jess took it upon herself to make tea and coffee in the kitchen.

Emily was still a little stressed when she finally came down. "They always get so excited about Christmas," she sighed, wafting her long auburn hair back. She was tall and slender and dressed casually in a navy-blue fleece and leggings with white trainers. Settling into the wingback chair, she drew her long legs up underneath her.

"Thank you all for coming," she said, looking round the group. The rimless glasses magnified her hazel eyes and long lashes. "Ben knows nothing about any of this so, everything said must not leave this room, okay."

Everyone nodded seriously.

___

"I was brought up on the south coast as an only child. I swore that if I had a family, I would never just have one, although now I can see the attraction. My parents were quite restricting, so when I chose my colleges, I set my heart on moving as far away from home as possible, much to their disappointment. I was offered a place on an English literature course at Newcastle and jumped at it. The University also offered me a share in a flat and I moved in with four other first year girls. We hit it off together really well and started going round as a gang. The nightlife in Newcastle was brilliant; both in the city and at the university. It was the first time I could do just as I pleased without having to justify it or tell anyone. We had such great fun.

Towards the end of the first term the Medical Faculty held their Christmas Ball. These had a reputation for being pretty wild, so we had to go along to see. That was where I met Steve, a second-year medical student. He was serving behind the bar, but after his shift finished, we danced the rest of the night away and I ended up sleeping at his place. He was my first true boyfriend and I was seriously smitten. He was tall, dark haired and really cute. I was the envy of all my flatmates. It was quite intense. We saw each other every day for the next two weeks. It was amazing how close we got in that short amount of time, but then I had to vacate the flat and go home for the Christmas holidays.

Back home, I found that my parents were still treating me as a schoolgirl. I got so frustrated. I rang Steve every night, telling him what limits they were setting. He just laughed and said it wouldn't be long before I was back in Newcastle. But the holidays stretched on for ever. They did finally end and I shot back up north to fall into his arms again. I was so happy.

It was the Wednesday of that first week. I remember the day distinctly. A cold crisp winter morning. My English lecture had been cancelled at short notice because the lecturer hadn't been able to drive in. Steve didn't have lectures on Wednesdays so I thought I'd get us a couple of cakes from the bakery and we could have elevenses together. When I got to his house the sitting area was empty but I could hear him bumping around in his room. I knocked on the door and went in. He was on the bed with a girl, both of them naked.

I was shocked. I just stood there with my mouth open. Time seemed to run in slow motion. She tried to cover herself up. Steve swore. Whether because I'd disturbed them or that I had found him cheating, I don't know. I just flung the paper bag of buns at him and ran from the house in tears.

I cried all the way back to my flat, but there was nobody there. I blocked all his calls to my mobile and spent the worst afternoon of my life sobbing alone in my room. I was still in tears when my flatmates got back. They made me a cup of tea and tried to comfort me. I didn't ring mum. She would have used it as an excuse to come running or worse, demanded that I immediately return home. Still snivelling, I went to bed early with a hot water bottle.

I was still upset the next morning, but I forced myself to get up and go in to college. I tried to concentrate on the lectures but, at lunchtime I found myself mooching aimlessly around the Student's Union. That was when I spotted the little printed card pinned in the bottom corner of a noticeboard. It was an escort agency advertising for reliable, attractive girls. I had a pretty good idea what escorts were and I moved on, but as I maundered, I began to think, well, why not? I wasn't going to see Steve again, so my weekends were going to be rather empty. The money would be handy too, as my student loan was already starting to stack up. I snuck back and took a discreet photo of the card.

I didn't ring them immediately. I wanted to think about it first, and besides, I had lectures all afternoon. However, the idea kept creeping back into my head during a rather dull discourse on Dickens. That evening, I decided not to mention what I was considering to my flatmates. Instead, I went on-line to find out more about it.

There were pages and pages of agency adverts although it looked as if many of them were duplicated. There were also sites giving advice on becoming an escort which were useful and I studied these avidly. I quickly realised it wasn't something you could just dip your toe into. It was going to need a lot of thought and consideration. I decided to spend the weekend mulling it over.

It was a dreary weekend despite my flatmates trying to distract me. I read some more about escorting, but got conflicting views which left me even more confused. I was so befuddled by Sunday afternoon I decided to take myself out for a walk, just to clear my head. I got back around five just as the light was dropping. There was a huge bouquet of flowers on the table.

"Gosh! Who's got those?" I asked naively.

"Steve called round this afternoon," they replied. "He said he was sorry."

"Bin them," I muttered and went to my room. I don't know if it was this last gesture that pushed me, but I made up my mind to contact an agency, just to explore the idea further. However, there were so many on the internet, it was difficult to choose. In the end I contacted the one I had seen at the Students Union. Their web site advertised that they were a female-run agency and the photographs of the girls were tasteful and reserved. With some trepidation I filled in the on-line application and attached a selfie.

Within an hour, I got a call back from a woman with a quiet maternal voice. "Is that Emily?" she asked after announcing her agency.

"Yes" I replied. "I didn't think you'd be working on Sundays."

"It's one of our busiest nights, dear," she said. "Now, I've got your application and I'd like to meet you. Do you have an hour free sometime next week?"

"Err, yes. I could come after my ten o'clock lecture on Tuesday."

"That would be ideal. Do you know the Coffee Bean on All Saints Street?"

"Yes, I've been a few times."

"Could you get there by say quarter past eleven?"

"I should be able to. How will I recognise you?"

"Don't worry, dear. I'll pick you out from your photo. Just go in, get yourself a cuppa and find an empty table. It'll be fairly quiet at that time of day. Come just as you are, there's no need to dress up or anything. And could you bring some proof of age, dear, you look so young in this picture.

"Okay"

"Looking forward to meeting you." And she was gone. And I hadn't even asked her name. I'd taken my first tentative step. I was terrified.

I worried about it all the next day and I was still nervous and preoccupied on Tuesday morning. My friends put it down to my break up from Steve. Despite her request, I did wear a little makeup as I figured I needed to make a good impression, even if I decided it wasn't for me. My lecture seemed to last forever and I kept checking my watch. Finally, I swept up my books and dashed out of the room.

The coffee bar was only ten minutes away, so I actually got there early. As she had predicted, it wasn't busy. I bought a large latte and sat at a table against the wall, well away from the other customers. As I started to glance around, a plump middle-aged woman in a gabardine coat and long scarf picked her way through the tables towards me.

"Emily?" she smiled.

I nodded.

"I'm Dawn. May I join you, dear?"

"Yes. Of course," I stammered.

"Nervous?" she asked placing her cup and saucer on the table.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Don't worry," she smiled. "Before we start, can I just check your age?"

I rummaged in my bag for my Pass Card and slid it across the laminate surface. She scrutinised it briefly before handing it back.

"So, you're nineteen and studying at the university. Why did you contact us?"

"I saw your card in the Students Union."

"A lot of girls see it, but that isn't why you contacted us, is it?"

"No, I suppose not," I admitted. "I've just broken up with my boyfriend, so my weekends are a bit empty. And my student debt is building up," I added.

"So, you'd just be wanting to work weekends then." She took out a small book and started to make notes. "Have you had any experience of adult work?"

I shook my head.

She hesitated and gave me a long appraising look. "Let me just confirm some personal details for your profile. You're five foot seven with a 34C bust. Are those natural?"

I nodded.

"Auburn hair and hazel eyes. Any tattoos or piercings?"

"No tattoos but I've got a navel piercing."

"Do you smoke?"

"No."

She took a sip of coffee. "I'm going to get a bit more personal, Emily. You ticked straight for your sexual orientation. Would you go with women?"

I was surprised. "Do you get many women asking for escorts?"

"Occasionally, but we also get couples asking for a female escort."

"Well, I suppose so. I've never tried it."

"All right. I'm guessing you wouldn't entertain clients at home."

"Oh no." I must have looked shocked.

"Well, we do have a couple of apartments where you could entertain them. Would you be comfortable meeting clients at a hotel or in their home?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Do you have a car?"

"No."

"You'll have to use taxis then. I can recommend a trusted company the other girls use." She lifted her cup and gave me another evaluating look.

"Right. Let me tell you something about us. Jenny, my partner, and I have been running this agency for about eight years now, and we have around a thousand clients. If you joined us, you'd be self-employed but we'd arrange a photo shoot and create a profile for you to go on the website. Have you had a look at our gallery?"

"Yes, I thought it looked quite tasteful."

"Thank you." She seemed genuinely pleased with my comment. "How risqué you'd like your photographs to be is up to you, of course, but we always blank out faces, to maintain anonymity. Once you feel ready, we'll put your pictures and profile in the gallery. I'm confident that you'll generate a lot of enquiries. We'll deal with vetting and bookings, but you do need to be flexible. Some requests come in at very short notice. Do you have any questions?"

"Err, no." To be honest, I was a bit shellshocked with everything she'd just told me. "Oh, what about the money?"

I was shocked again when she told me how much I should charge. "But we do take thirty percent commission for our services," she smiled. "So, what do you think. Would like to work with us?"

I took a deep breath before answering. "I think so. Yes"

"That's great. Well, I could set up a photoshoot on Thursday. This is the studio," she said sliding a small business card across the table. "I guess evening would be more convenient for you. Should we say six o'clock?"

"Yes. Okay."

"You'll need to think about what you are going to wear, not just for the shoot, but also for when you start work. Do you have any lingerie?"

"Not really," I said, visualising my dishevelled drawer of underwear.

"Well, it would be worth picking some up. Your clients will tend to be quite conservative and prefer more traditional lingerie; stockings, suspenders, lacy bras. Choose something feminine and vulnerable looking. There's also a preference for body hair to be removed; under arm and between the legs, or at least tidied. It's not obligatory, of course, but it would make you more popular."

I nodded.

"You'll have to come up with a professional name, as well," she said, draining her cup. "I'll see you on Thursday. Let me know if there's any problem."

I realised as she left that I hadn't touched my coffee. I sat there for another hour, sipping lethargically at the lukewarm liquid and wondering what I was getting into.

Thursday evening arrived very quickly. I had spent the evening before in the bath, shaving my arms and legs and it felt a little strange to have no hair down there at all. I had also bought some white lacy lingerie and stockings from one of the high street chains. I packed it discreetly in my bag together with my make-up and set off. I found the studio in a small courtyard just off Grey Street. Dawn was already inside the reception, chatting to a petite tanned girl.

"Hi Emily, you look great," she greeted me with a broad relieved smile. "This is Mia, our photographer." We acknowledged each other with a nod.

"Let's go up to the studio," she suggested.

It was a large windowless room totally whitewashed, but chaotic. There were hundreds of different props and lighting equipment jumbled up all over the place. Mia pointed out the changing room at the far end. "There's a dressing gown you can put on once you're ready," she said. "We don't want you covered in goosepimples."

I changed into my lingerie and wrapped the gown around me before sitting down in front of the mirror. I'd decided my make-up should be subtle and refined, not too flashy. I brushed out my long hair and went back into the studio. She had set up her camera and lighting tripods around a smoky grey canvas backdrop which extended across the floor. She had also put some background music on. "Right, let's have a look at you."

Slipping the gown from my shoulders, she faffed around adjusting and straightening the straps here and there until she was satisfied. She then asked me to stand in the centre of the backdrop.

She turned the spot lights on and took a few shots of me standing; front, side and back. She asked me to sway to the music; hands on hips, above my head, always pushing my bust out. And then kneeling, on all fours and finally lying on the sheet. Mia danced from one side to the other, calling out her instructions and continually clicking.

Dawn stood at the back of the room, watching. As I finished twisting into every possible position, she passed me a white blouse and tartan school skirt and asked if I would pose in them. We went through the same routine as before, but with me pulling the skirt up or the blouse open.

"Fabulous!" Dawn finally announced, handing back the gown. "That was great." I was relieved it was over and I could change back into my usual clothes.

"We've got some really good shots there," Dawn said as I came back into the studio. "Would you like to see?" She flicked through half a dozen of the shots she was thinking of putting in the gallery. "Would you be happy with those?"

"Yes," I smiled, weakly.

"Did you think of a name you'd like, by the way?"

"Oh, no. Not yet."

"Well, how about Angelica? That has a sweet innocent ring to it."

I mouthed the name a few times. "Yes, that sounds nice."

"I have actually got a booking for you," Dawn declared.

"But I'm not even on the website yet!"

"Actually, I put your details on but obviously without the photos. Anyway, a regular client of ours would like to meet you."

"Oh my god."

"Don't worry, Angelica. You'll bowl him over."

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow evening. He's staying at the hotel No.7 Quayside in Gateshead. Do you know it?"

I shook my head.

"Well, you can look it up. Mr. Sullivan would like to see you in the bar at nine o'clock for a two-hour booking. Is that, all right?"

"I guess so." My head was reeling. I never thought it would happen so quickly.

"Your lingerie and make-up are spot on, very alluring. Don't wear any jewellery that would need removing. It can get lost or forgotten. You just need a smart skirt and blouse," she smiled. "Take a couple of condoms and you might like to use some lube. Be punctual, get a drink from the bar and he'll approach you."

"Gosh! Is that it then?"

"Just use your natural charm and you'll be fine. Make sure your mobile is charged and text me when you meet him and when you leave. Oh, and use a taxi to go home."

I was in a daze the next day and couldn't concentrate on my lectures. I came back early to bag my place in the bathroom before the others occupied it. There was a lot of chatter at tea-time about which party they were going to and who would be there. It was nice to see their excitement. They tried to persuade me to come along but I said I was meeting my cousin in town.

After they'd all gone, I took some care with my make-up and by the time I had finished, it was almost time to go. I changed into a silky fuchsia blouse and a pale grey skirt. I picked out my black knee-high boots as I had decided to walk into the city despite the cold evening. I thought it would help clear my head so I could prepare for this 'blind' date. I wrapped up in my long puffer coat, picked up my bag and set off.

Surprisingly, as I walked down the streets towards the river, I started to feel slightly aroused. I guess there is never a time like the first and the anticipation was its own kind of aphrodisiac. Who would he be? What would he want me to do? How would his hands feel on my body?

The hotel was a converted warehouse on the south bank of the Tyne. I could see its floodlights reflected in the river as I walked across Blinking Eye Bridge. I glanced at my watch to check the time before mustering the courage to enter. With some trepidation, I pushed the glass doors open. It was so busy inside I wondered if he would ever find me. There was a warm glow from the exposed red brickwork and my heels clicked across the worn wooden boards as I made for the bar. I needed something to fortify myself so I ordered a gin and tonic. As I was finding my money, a low-pitched voice whispered in my ear. "Angelica?" I turned to face a rather burly man in a loud check suit and tie.

"Mr. Sullivan?"

"Yes. Please call me John. Can I get that drink for you?"

"Thank you," I smiled.

He asked the barman to put it on his tab before leading me to a corner table where his half glass of red wine was. He was quite florid with small eyes and brown thinning hair. I guessed he was in his late forties.

"So, you're Angelica," he said pulling out a chair for me. "And this is your first time. You must be nervous."

"Yes," I admitted.

"Don't worry. You look fantastic. Can we get this out of the way?" he asked, passing me an envelope from his inside pocket.

"Thank you," I said slipping it into my handbag. I took a sip of my gin. "It's a beautiful hotel. Do you stay here often?"

"Yes, whenever I'm visiting businesses in the north-east. It's the best in the area."

"And has business been good?"

"Yes, not bad." He picked up his drink and started to recite his sales patter. I noticed a wedding ring on his finger, but didn't mention it. I kept the conversation to the present to avoid his past. He seemed quite agreeable.

After a second drink, I excused myself to go to the toilet. There, I checked that the money was correct and texted Dawn to confirm that everything was in order. When I got back to the table, John suggested that we adjourn upstairs.

His room overlooked the river and I caught a glimpse of the illuminated arch of the Tyne Bridge before he closed the curtains. I folded my coat and placed it on the luggage bench with my handbag.