by Holly Archer
Just think of the money, I told myself. It’s money. It’s just a job. A very, very easy job. They already think you’re a slag. What difference does this make?
But Kev said, ‘We’re not going to my house. We’re using the one next door.’
‘What?’ I said. ‘Why? How can you do that?’
‘Because I just can,’ he said. ‘It’s mine, too.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Who’s there, then?’
‘Just another sad old bastard,’ he replied. ‘Make it quick this time. I need to get over to Lisa’s before Saif goes to bed or she’ll go mad.’
Even then, it made me feel a little strange that Kev could talk so casually about putting his son to bed as he was about to send me, an underage girl, into a house to pleasure a stranger for money. I tried not to think about his own daughters, just a few years younger than I was, caring for their mother just yards away, or to contemplate what he would have done if they’d done something like this.
‘Should I go in, too?’ Carly asked, eagerly. ‘Is there just one? If there’s a couple maybe I can help out. I’m good at giving blow jobs.’
I cringed inwardly, wishing for a moment that I’d never invited her along, as Kev muttered under his breath, ‘I’m sure you are, sweetheart.’
‘What was that?’ Carly asked. ‘Do you want me to go too? Will I get sixty quid if I go?’
Kev turned round and smirked at my friend. ‘Just leave it to Holly. You stay in the back.’
Now, it makes me feel a bit sick to think of how brainwashed Carly was, how brainwashed we both were. It chills me to the bone, as an adult, to think how eager we both were to sell our bodies to the highest bidder, at just fourteen years old, for some phone credit and a packet of crisps. But back then I felt a bit embarrassed for Carly.
I knew as soon as Kev had first cast his eye over her that she wasn’t what he was looking for. We were simply products to him, and he clearly didn’t place much value on her because she was so overweight. Now that we could buy all the crisps and sweets and fizzy drinks we wanted, she was only getting bigger. Kev knew more men would pay for me, because I was thinner. It sounds really mean, but even then I’d sussed what was going on.
I didn’t want to hang around and look at Carly’s confused, crushed face, so I followed Kev out of the car and into the terraced house. A woman walking her dog did a double take as she saw Kev and me file through the door. I didn’t recognise her, but my stomach instantly twisted as that awful thought shot to the surface of my mind.
What if she knows my mum?
I didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, as Kev pushed open the front door and led me into the lounge. It was like a mirror image of the one in the house next door, with some nice furniture and a flat-screen TV, the kind of room that wouldn’t look odd if you walked past and just happened to glance in. The only thing missing was the school pictures, but I felt glad Imran and Farooq weren’t grinning down from the walls.
My eyes travelled to the sofa, where my next customer was sitting.
If I’d thought the first man was old, this guy was positively decrepit. He must have been at least in his seventies, perhaps even older. He was Chinese, too, and even smaller than the first client. He stood up to get a proper look at me and he barely reached to my shoulder. He was wearing a suit, as if it was some sort of special occasion, and that almost made me laugh. It was ridiculous. He looked like he was about to splash out on a meal in a fancy restaurant, rather than pay for a fourteen-year-old girl. His skin was discoloured and patchy, and his white hair was really thin, and combed over the top of his head.
‘He doesn’t speak English,’ Kev said. ‘Take him to the back room.’
If the front room in Kev’s other house looked like people could have lived there, the rest of it was a very different story. I quickly realised that this house existed solely for this purpose, somewhere for dirty old men to do dirty deeds away from the prying eyes of the outside world.
You had to hand it to Kev. He really had thought of his customers’ every need. I caught sight of what I guessed should have been the kitchen, but there was no cooker or washing machine or microwave, just piles and piles of junk and a bad, mouldy smell. The back room was even worse. You could hardly move for boxes and there was a rotten, moth-eaten sofa bed and a halogen heater in the corner of the room. The damp was so putrid it almost knocked me sideways, but the old man didn’t seem bothered at all.
I couldn’t help wondering where he lived, and if he had a wife at home and what she’d make of all this if she found out. I tried to dismiss the pang of guilt I felt when I thought of him having a home and a family. It did make me feel like a slag, shagging other women’s husbands for money, but I tried not to dwell on it. I just hoped we wouldn’t get caught out because then it would all be my fault.
It would all be my fault, for being such a slag.
The man gestured to my boobs and I guessed he wanted me to take my clothes off. Robotically I undressed, and then sat on the sofa beside him. He was down to his pants now and his wrinkly, saggy skin made me feel a bit sick.
He said something in his own language, which sounded a bit like a question.
‘Eh?’ I said.
But he just shook his head. I figured he wanted me to lie back, so that’s what I did. I looked at the ceiling and watched, as a fly buzzed around the naked lightbulb.
I waited for him to do the inevitable, as he cupped my bare breasts and gave a weak moan. It took me a few seconds to realise it was over.
We hadn’t even started having sex and that was him, done.
I sat bolt upright and pulled my T-shirt over my head, feeling smug. This just gets easier every time, I thought. I wondered how much he’d paid. Had he intended to use a condom or not? Still, I figured he’d paid at least two hundred quid. Two hundred quid, to touch a girl’s boobs for two seconds! Kev was right. These guys really were pretty bloody sad. I almost felt sorry for them.
As I was getting dressed, I could hear my phone vibrating in my pocket. I looked at the number on the screen and saw it was Beaver, as I’d christened him – the guy who’d showed me his dick at the foot of the Wrekin. He called me sometimes, but nowhere near as often as Kev and Mr Khan. He’d got my number from somewhere after that night, but he seemed harmless enough, so I didn’t really mind. Plus, half the Asian men in Telford had my number anyway. What odds did another one make?
I thought about answering but the old man was watching me as I pulled my T-shirt over my head, phone still in hand. I quickly cancelled the call.
The old man was standing, counting out a pile of ten-and twenty-pound notes and handing them to Kev, as I walked back into the lounge. Without even looking in my direction, he nodded to Kev and disappeared out of the front door, back into the night.
I stood there, expectantly, waiting for my sixty quid, wondering if I’d maybe get more this time because it was my second customer, as Kev checked and double checked the little man had paid the full amount.
Eventually, he handed me two twenty-pound notes. I looked at him, confused, and he rolled his eyes.
‘You could at least look happy,’ he said. ‘Forty quid for ten minutes’ work.’
I slowly met his gaze. ‘I thought it was supposed to be sixty. Last time I got sixty.’
Kev lowered his thick, black eyebrows and looked straight at me. ‘Don’t fucking start, Holly. I know you didn’t shag him. Did you?’
I didn’t know what to say. ‘I . . .’
‘Sad old prick like that just touched your boobs and came straight away,’ he said. ‘Am I right?’
I nodded, slowly.
‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘So don’t you ever try to pull the wool over my eyes again. You take what you’re given. This costs me money, you know. I have to heat this place. I have to drive you here. I pay all the bills, I find all the men, I do all the work, yet you’ve got the cheek to ask for more?’
I shrugged, defiantly, as he threw open the fro
nt door and together we walked towards the car, where Carly was still sitting in the back seat. The orange glow from the streetlights shone onto the pavement.
Kev paused before he opened the door and said: ‘You should be fucking grateful you even got that much.’
8
Bought and Sold
I was in a bit of a mood when Kev dropped me at the end of the road. I didn’t even really want to speak to Carly. I thought he’d maybe relent when he saw I was a bit pissed off that he’d given me twenty quid less than before, but he didn’t say a word until he stopped the car.
‘Remember,’ he said. ‘Tuesday night. And don’t be late.’
‘Right,’ I said, before letting Carly out the back and slamming the door with an almighty thud. Kev’s car sped off into the distance and I kicked some gravel beneath my feet.
‘What’s up?’ Carly said. ‘You seem annoyed. Didn’t you just get sixty quid?’
I shrugged. ‘Nope. Forty. The guy just touched my boobs, so Kev wouldn’t give me any more.’
‘It’s better than nothing,’ she replied. ‘Do you think he’ll let me do it?’
I didn’t want to say anything to hurt her, so I mumbled something about not being sure how many men there were. She seemed oblivious to the fact that I was trying to let her down gently.
‘I’d love £17,000,’ she said. ‘Lily Brown must have shagged so many guys to get that much. Do you think he gives you more the more times you do it? I bet he does.’
I didn’t know what to say. I looked at my watch and it was long past my curfew. I already had a missed call from Mum and I was starving.
‘I better go, Carls,’ I said. ‘See you tomorrow.’
When I walked in, Mum said something to me about homework but it didn’t really register. I just went upstairs and put my headphones on. I’d become obsessed with the rapper Ja Rule, a far cry from the innocent chart music I’d once danced to awkwardly in the snooker hall. Some of his songs were a bit explicit, but they suited my mood. More often than not I was in a bit of a huff and tonight was no different.
As I walked home from school the next night, my phone started to buzz with a call from Mr Khan. I was feeling a little more defiant than usual, maybe because I was still wound up about Kev selling me short. I cancelled the call and continued to walk down the hill, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t drive past.
It was only a matter of seconds before I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket again. I didn’t dare take it out. I picked up the pace and practically ran all the way home. I just wasn’t in the mood for Mr Khan and his wandering hands. I couldn’t face him that day.
I felt a momentary sense of relief as I stepped over the threshold and into Mum’s front room, but I might have known that there would be consequences. There always were with Mr Khan. It was just like the day I’d gone to Jenny’s and he’d been so mad.
For the next fifteen minutes he called me constantly. As soon as I cancelled one call, he’d ring again. It was like he had me on redial. I could feel the anger and frustration bubbling up inside me and for a second I thought about smashing my phone against the living-room wall.
Eventually I decided I’d be better off just answering it. Mum was due home from work any second and, even though it was on silent, I didn’t want her to see me cancelling the calls or to hear it vibrating in my pocket.
Mr Khan was fuming. ‘Why don’t you answer?’ he screamed. ‘Why, Holly? Why?’
I stayed silent, as he ranted and raved in his broken English for a few minutes. I couldn’t understand most of what he was saying, but I knew it wasn’t pleasant. Eventually he calmed down and his voice dropped a little: ‘You meet me tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Or I tell your mum you are prostitute.’
As he rang off, I could feel the blood pumping through my veins and rushing to my head. A huge knot formed in my stomach and I felt physically sick. It was my worst fear – Mum finding out what I was up to. Mr Khan never missed an opportunity to remind me that his daughter went to the school where Mum worked, and I was absolutely terrified he’d say something. I didn’t know if he knew about Kev, but the Asian community in Telford was small, so it was definitely possible.
Needless to say, the next day I made sure I answered when Mr Khan called. I waited for him exactly where he’d told me to and I didn’t protest as he bundled me into the car. He didn’t have to tell me to lie flat in the back. I did it without being asked.
When the car slowed to a halt, I realised we were at the end of the dirt track, as usual. I couldn’t help but think how idyllic it all looked: the horses running playfully in the field in the distance and the acres of lush woodland all around. It seemed so surreal that I was here with a strange older man who was threatening to tell my mum I was a prostitute.
He ordered me to get into the front. I managed to stifle a sigh as I prepared for him to touch my legs and shove his horrible tongue down my throat. But he didn’t move.
For a few moments he just sat there staring at me with those evil black eyes that still make me shudder. I didn’t know where to look, so I stared straight ahead, focusing on the horses rather than the uncomfortable situation I was in. For a moment, I ached to run out of the car and towards the field, and to keep running until Mr Khan was far out of sight. But he’d only find me again and I couldn’t live with the consequences of disobeying him. He’d sounded so serious when he threatened to tell Mum I was a prostitute and I didn’t want to take any chances.
It seemed like an eternity before he broke the silence.
‘Holly,’ he said. ‘You answer phone when I call. OK?’
I nodded. ‘OK, OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll answer the phone.’
Mr Khan was still looking at me, his eyes boring into me. Then, he said something that made me almost retch in sheer disgust.
His brown eyes widened as he declared, ‘I’m going to fuck you, Holly.’
My whole body tensed in horror. Kissing Mr Khan was bad enough but the thought of him lying on top of me was just too much to bear. I could feel the bile rising in my throat and the panic spreading across my face. I opened my mouth to say no, I didn’t want to, but no words came out. I tried to protest again, but I clamped my mouth shut as it dawned on me that there was no point in resisting. If I didn’t do exactly as he said, he’d go straight to Mum and say the unthinkable and then my life would be ruined.
‘I’m going to fuck you,’ he said again. It was almost like he was testing me, trying to coax me into responding. I stayed silent. ‘I’m going to fuck you. Get in the back.’
Wordlessly I did as he said. Suddenly I was beyond tears. When I think of it now, I’m amazed at how quickly I managed to resign myself to my fate. I had no option but to have this horrible man lie on top of me and violate me in the most horrific way. The best I could hope for was that it would be quick.
As he pulled down his grubby white trousers, the smell of him was almost too much. He’d clearly never heard of deodorant and he absolutely stunk of sweat. I’m not sure if he smelled worse that day than any other, but it certainly seemed like it. His stench filled the whole car.
‘Do you want me to fuck you or make sex with you?’ he barked.
I just lay there, mouth half-open, not quite knowing what to say. I didn’t understand the difference between ‘fucking’ and ‘making sex’, and I wasn’t sure what the right answer was. I wondered if something had got lost in translation but I was scared to say anything in case it made Mr Khan even angrier than he already seemed.
‘I don’t care,’ I said, eventually. ‘Just do it.’
He started to paw at the leggings I’d hastily pulled on before he’d asked me to meet him and soon they were round my ankles. Next came my pants. He tugged at my hair so violently I almost cried out and I had to bite down on my lip so I didn’t make any noise, as he threw me on the back seat and climbed on top of me.
It won’t be that bad, I told myself. It won’t be that bad. Think of Kev, and the Chinese man. It didn’t hurt,
it was over in no time. This will be just the same.
But as much as I tried to persuade myself it would be bearable, I knew in my heart of hearts it would be awful. I held my breath and Mr Khan forced himself on top of me and inside me. His awful, sweaty smell filled my nostrils. The pain was instant. He was much bigger than Kev or the Chinese man and it really, really hurt, but I knew if I made a sound in protest he’d go mad and who knew what would happen then?
He wasn’t a big man, but his weight on top of me felt suffocating and I could barely breathe as he started to thrust in and out of me. I winced in pain with every move he made. He was so forceful, so violent, that my head kept hitting the car door.
I decided to look at the horses in the distance, watching them jump around and frolic in the grass, in a desperate bid to block out what was going on.
Mr Khan lasted a lot longer than the Chinese man but, thankfully, it was still over within about ten minutes. When he’d finished, he practically pushed me out of the way as he scrambled to put his trousers back on.
Then, without a hint of emotion, he said: ‘I like you.’
I just stared at the horizon, still watching the horses, as I pulled my leggings up.
‘Holly!’ he said. His voice was laced with venom and rage, as he grabbed my arm and pulled my body towards his once more. I held my breath so I didn’t have to smell him again. ‘I like you. Do you like me?’
Just for a moment, the fear inside me evaporated and I shook my head. ‘No,’ I replied, honestly.
Of course, this was a massive mistake.
‘I’ll slap you!’ he screeched. ‘You fucking bitch! Do you like me?’
I closed my eyes, just for a fraction of a second, hoping that when I opened them I’d be somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t the inside of Mr Khan’s Nissan.