by L. P. Gibbs
“Fuck me!” he exclaimed. “I almost didn't recognise you, love. You'd better go inside and see Lenny.” He stood back and allowed her to enter. The barman who stood behind the small bar, polishing glasses, simply nodded at her as she passed and made her way down the spiral staircase.
Alex, or Carla as she was now known, was sitting with two other girls at the smaller bar downstairs. She squealed with delight when she saw her friend approaching and jumped off her bar-stool.
“You look fabulous,” she said, ruffling Samantha's long black hair back over her shoulder. At that moment, Lenny Harris came out of his little office and closed the door behind him.
“Well,” he began, “that's an 'ell of an improvement on yesterday. Has Carla filled you in on everyfing you need to know?” Samantha assured him that she had. “Alright, love. Let's see what you can do.” With that, he walked across and climbed the stairs, disappearing round the bend at the top.
“Come over and sit with us,” Carla told her, “and I'll introduce you to some of the other girls.”
Samantha was a little shy at first but, as the evening wore on and she was allocated her first customer, she settled into her new role. By the time she left the club with her friend at a quarter past three, she had twenty pounds in her little purse, the equivalent of working at Adrian's for two and a half weeks. Carla took her to one of the illegal drinking dens in Greek Street. They sat there laughing and chatting until almost five o'clock. Carla lived out beyond South London so Samantha suggested that she stayed with her in Camden for the night as it was so late.
They crept up the creaking stairs with their shoes in their hands and quietly closed the old panelled door behind them. Undressing and a little tipsy, Samantha slid gratefully into the single bed and Carla got in beside her, leaning up on one elbow and looking down at the other girl.
“You know, you should do quite well at Silk's,” she informed her friend with a warm smile. “You're very pretty and you've got great breasts too.” As she said this, she traced a line with her forefinger down Samantha's cheek, across her neck and down to her breast where it began to slowly move around her nipple in circles. Samantha gasped and her head went back, her chin pointed upwards as she experienced a pleasure that she had never known before. The tingling in her bosom moved down her body as Carla's fingertips softly moved downwards to her stomach and then mingled with her pubic hair, stopping there for a moment as she leaned forward and tenderly kissed Samantha on her mouth. Her lips parted a little and she allowed Carla's tongue to explore the cavity of her mouth, now breathing heavier. Then she felt Carla's finger entering her as her mouth moved down to the same area. When Samantha felt the heat of Carla's tongue on her and her fingers slide inside her with her thumb moving around her clitoris, she had to bite her bottom lip to prevent herself screaming aloud as she reached an almost immediate orgasm. She had never experienced anything like it. It seemed to go on for ever but was, in fact, around fifteen seconds after which, she all but collapsed, her body limp and exhausted, the sweat almost dripping from her body.
She lay there panting, unable to move, staring at the cracked ceiling above her as Carla moved back up and snuggled her mouth against her neck, nibbling oh so gently at her ear lobe as she straddled across Samantha's stomach and leaned forward so that her full breasts were against the other girl's lips. Samantha could smell Carla's strong Charles of the Ritz perfume as her tongue automatically flicked back and forth across those beautiful, pointed nipples. It seemed to be so natural for her. Carla sighed with absolute pleasure, gradually allowing her head to go up and back, her beautiful green eyes staring fixedly at a small spider that crept its way very slowly across the ceiling. Samantha's hand found its way down to Carla's shaved, smooth vagina as her tongue continued its work on the now erect nipples. The fingers entered. Carla's fingernails began to cut into Samantha's shoulders as the ecstasy overtook her writhing body. She groaned aloud and moved her hips in a circular motion. When she had finished, she gently lowered herself down and kissed the other girl passionately.
“I would ask how it was for you, but I think I know the answer to that one,” Carla said with a laugh as she laid down, wrapped her arm around Samantha's waist and squeezed her. “Was that your first time with another woman?”
“My only other experience of any kind of sex was with that pig, Steven” she replied with a contemptuous sneer and wrinkling her nose.
“That's alright then,” Carla said, snuggling up closer until they fell asleep in each other's arms.
When Samantha awoke, she was alone. She lay there for a moment wondering if it had been a dream but then smelled Carla's delicious Ritz perfume on her pillow and knew that it hadn't been her imagination. The bedside alarm clock showed the time to be nine forty-five.
Somewhere in the far distance, she heard church bells ringing hollowly, calling the faithful to Sunday morning prayer. She briefly wondered if she should start going to the local church but then just as quickly discounted the idea as ridiculous. Neither her nor any of her family had ever had any religious leanings. The only time any church was attended, and then only under the greatest sufferance, was for the very infrequent family weddings or funerals.
Putting her feet to the floor on the thin mat that lay beside the bed, she stood, stretched her arms and yawned. Then she saw the note propped up against the kettle on the table. 'Not in work on Monday. See you Tuesday night. XXX'. Samantha recalled that Carla had told her it was not worth going in on Mondays as customers were always very thin on the ground.
Having nothing else to occupy her, she decided that she would go in alone the following night and try her luck. She busied herself for most of the day cleaning her room, sorting out her clothes for the coming week and then went out to a nearby Wimpy Bar for a cheeseburger and chips.
The following evening at five minutes before nine, she presented herself at the door of Silk's just as Chris, the doorman, was raising the metal shutters. As she approached along the street, there was a new found aura of confidence about her that had been missing before. However, this had been boosted by the four glasses of vodka she had downed before leaving home
“Jesus,” Chris exclaimed, “you're keen, aren't you?”
“I'm the original early bird,” she retorted with a laugh. She breezed past him as if she had been working there all her life. Samantha went through the curtain and into the bar. “Hello, Rocky,” she smiled at the barman. He smiled back at her and scratched his bushy beard out of habit.
“You've certainly changed since you first walked through that door, girl,” he told her, his head nodding in approval.
“Can only try, Rock,” she replied. “Can only try.” With that, she headed downstairs to the club floor and, raising herself on to a bar stool, leaned against the counter. She was the first girl in that night and had just opened a can of Coke when Chris came down the stairs with an early punter.
“Samantha,” he called as he reached the bottom. “Look after this gentleman for me, will you? He's a personal friend of mine.” This was the normal line from Chris to make the punter feel he was getting the best deal possible and that he would be given special favours. A lie, obviously.
She quickly slid off her seat with her best seductive smile and almost glided across the empty, small dance floor on her high heels to the man, placing her hand on his upper arm with a slight squeeze, just as she had been shown by Alex, or Carla as she was now known. The customer was immediately put at ease with this lovely, sexy young girl and his beaming smile showed it.
“Hi, my name is Samantha. What's yours?”
“Oh, … Hello, I … I ...I'm Harold,” he stammered. She realised that he was not used to doing this sort of thing and she almost felt a little sorry for this short, plump, middle-aged, balding man with spectacles that appeared too big for him as they kept sliding down his ruddy nose causing him to constantly keep pushing them back up. Feeling sorry didn't pay the rent though, so she smiled her sweetest, most angelic smile
and led him to a table in the far corner. Sitting in the booth beside him, she leaned against him, still gazing into his puppy-dog eyes. Within seconds, Rocky was at his side with his notepad in his hand, pencil at the ready.
“What drinks can I get you, sir?” he asked with a warm smile. Samantha interjected immediately.
“Well, I would absolutely adore a Champagne cocktail,” she said, squeezing his thigh with her manicured hand. Small, glistening beads of perspiration started to gather on Harold's furrowed brow, prevented from turning to rivulets down his face by his bushy, greying eyebrows.
“And for you, sir?” Rocky enquired, his own eyebrows raised in a questioning manner. “We can do a nice, cold lager or there is our famous Scotch whisky if you prefer.” What the man did not know was that the lager was alcohol free and the Scotch came from a special stock owned by Lenny Harris and kept in his private cupboard. Silk's did not hold a licence to sell alcohol.
“Er, …. I ….I think I'd better stick to the lager, f.. f.. for now,” Harold replied nervously as he gazed into the deep, dark pools of Samantha's green eyes. Rocky made his move while the customer was still engrossed.
“I'll bring the drinks for you straight away, sir,” he told the man. “if I could just take your credit card for authorisation?”
“Wh … what? Oh, … yes, … of course,” he replied, struggling to take his wallet out of his inside jacket pocket. Rocky noted the folded banknotes within as Harold drew out his American Express Gold Card and handed it over. Rocky placed it inside his notepad and headed back up the stairs. He returned less than five minutes later with the drinks and placed them on the table. The card remained upstairs behind the bar until it came to settling the final bill. As he delivered the drinks, he leaned forward to Harold's ear and whispered to the customer in a soft voice.
“Bear in mind, sir, that these girls get paid very little and rely on their tips in cash, if you know what I mean?” The man nodded to show that he understood the situation completely and Rocky wandered back off up the staircase, leaving them to enjoy the live music that was just starting.
An elderly man had plugged in his electric organ keyboard and another man, only slightly younger, tuned in his electric guitar having turned on the drum machine. That was it! Live music!
Samantha sipped gently on her 'Champagne cocktail'. The warm Tizer soft drink was far too sweet and sickly for her taste but she persisted with it, moving the cocktail umbrella to one side. The best part of it was the tiny strawberry that floated on the bubbly surface of the drink.
She engaged the man in conversation as he asked about her. Drawing on her own experience back home, she invented a life of abject poverty, a father who beat her constantly, having to go to school with no shoes on her feet, having to dig up turnips from the field to eat, a totally sorry tale. By the time she had finished the poor customer was on the verge of tears.
As midnight approached, he told her that he had to leave in order to get the last train home to Canterbury in Kent. Samantha stood to walk him back up to the bar in order to settle his bill. As she came round to his side of the table, he grasped her hand and pushed a small wad of banknotes into her palm, folding her fingers over it. She thanked him profusely and kissed him softly on his cheek before pulling away and taking the first of the steep steps up. He followed behind her, his eyes bulging at the sight of her well-rounded backside only inches from his face. When they reached the bar, Rocky had his bill all ready for him, the credit card strip ready to sign. Harold was a little taken aback by the amount but signed anyway.
“Goodnight, Samantha,” he smiled having turned to her.
“Goodnight, Harold,” she replied. “Please do come back and see me again, won't you?”
“Oh …. oh, yes,” came the response. “I most d ….definitely will.” With another weak smile, he went out through the door. She turned round to see Rocky beaming at her from behind his counter.
“You did well there, girl,” he told her. “His bill came to three hundred and ten pounds and you get ten percent of that.” She stared back at him, open-mouthed. Thirty one quid? That was the equivalent of nearly four weeks work in the shop. She was elated and almost skipped back down the staircase.
When she reached the bottom, she cautiously opened her hand and counted out the cash he had given her as a tip. Four new, crisp five pound notes unfolded in her hand. She tucked them away in her little red purse and went across to the bar stool she had vacated less than three hours earlier, helping herself to a cold can of Coke. One of the other girls who she had been introduced to as Pepsi was sitting there with a drink of her own. She smiled as Samantha arrived beside her.
“How did you get on, Sam?” she asked, eyes wide in anticipation of the reply.
“Not bad,” she answered, “Apparently he was a good payer so we'll have to wait and see.” Carla had warned her in advance to never disclose to any of the other girls how much she had made. There was too much jealousy among them as it was. She made another few pounds before the club closed early at two thirty and caught the night bus back to Camden Town nursing nearly seventy pounds in her handbag.
In this way, Samantha's life continued as a hostess at Silks. She had long forgotten her given name of Janet. That was pushed way into the back of her mind. She carried on telephoning her old friend, Sandra, every Sunday afternoon from the call box just along the road on the corner of Royal College Street. They would sometimes natter and gossip for almost an hour. Sandra always brought Samantha up to date with everything that was happening back home. Samantha's father was still getting drunk on a regular basis and being barred from several of the local pubs while her mother soldiered on. Samantha said that she would send some money up to be given to her mother in case her father was keeping her short as he usually did. Any money he received usually disappeared very quickly in his local public house.
Samantha told Sandra all about her work as a hostess. Sandra had reservations about it and warned her to be very careful. She didn't like the idea of working in the Soho area after what Samantha had told her what happened to her in the Pink Panther.
It was during one of these weekly chats that Sandra told Samantha about her new boyfriend. She had met him while out shopping for her elderly grandmother one Saturday afternoon. He worked as a labourer on one of the many building sites that had sprung up, helping to regenerate the city and rid it of the many filthy slums, especially those on the Quayside.
His name was Barry and when he was at home he was quite a heavy drinker, spending a lot of his evenings and money in the local working men's clubs and pubs. Sandra was infatuated with him though and loved the attention he gave her as well as the money that he lavished upon her. They had now moved in together. Samantha didn't like the sound of the man as he reminded her of her father. She voiced her worry to Sandra who only dismissed it out of hand.
“Well, just you be careful, Sarn,” she warned her friend. “Don't hesitate to tell me if things get a bit rough.”
“Aye, pet, I will that.”
When she telephoned the following Sunday, Barry answered the phone and told her that Sandra was out and instructed her not to call again. She ignored what he said and telephoned her the following Tuesday morning when she knew Barry would be at work. Sandra was obviously under the Barry's spell and didn't want to antagonise him too much. So as not to aggravate the man, they agreed to only keep in touch once a month from then on.
* * * *
WORKING.
A whole year came and went and Samantha had heard nothing about the demise of Steven, although there had been one or two whispers in some of the drinking dens from those who knew him. The general feeling was that it had been a botched robbery by one of the prostitutes that he occasionally took to his room. There had been no police activity to ascertain the identity of the killer. That was known only to her and Carla with whom she had an on/off relationship when it suited the pair of them. Carla was also her mentor when it came to work.
Having b
een employed as a hostess at Silk's for a little over twelve months, Samantha had definitely got the hang of the job and was now earning reasonably good money. She learned her craft well by watching the other girls and listening to what they chattered to each other about, how they kept their customers spending money, what the men liked to hear. It all went to make her one of the best workers that Lenny Harris had in the club. She had to avoid close contact with Harris though, as he was what some of the girls described as a very 'hands-on' boss; arms like an octopus and always nipping the girls' rear ends whenever he had the chance. Samantha had heard from a couple of the others that he sometimes got girls to 'do favours' for him in exchange for the possibility of earning better money. She had seen him go out of the back door with one of the girls occasionally. Samantha wasn't going to fall for that one.
Then she met Daniel.
He came into the club one night accompanied by two friends and they were seated at one of the corner booths. He was extremely well dressed in a black, three piece suit and as he arrived, she had watched him move down the staircase with a confident movement, one hand stuck in his trouser pocket, the other resting gently upon the rail as his eyes scanned the floor and briefly rested on hers. Carla and another girl sat with them and Carla beckoned for Samantha to join them. She slid into the vacant seat next to the young man who introduced himself as Daniel. As the 'Champagne cocktails' flowed, she found that their chatter became more and more exclusive, as the others appeared to be left out of their conversations. She would be looking at him and he at her, no-one else in the room seemed to matter. Samantha became more drawn to him as he spoke in a soft, charming manner, a warm smile for ever playing on his full lips. She found herself gazing at those lips, her mind wandering.
“Well? ….... What do you think?” Daniel asked her. She blinked her eyes back from her daydream.