Not that the woman seemed to mind too much. At least he was putting the effort in, his head between her legs as she leant back and serviced the weak handsome one. The effect was a little like dominoes, and the contortions were surely giving her a lower back ache. Handsome man was absolutely enjoying the performative aspect to it all, I could practically see him flexing his abdominal muscles as he looked over to me and ushered me to join them. I let out a small laugh, which caused the woman to look up and frown, and I felt rather unsisterly in taking her away from her ecstasy. Surely these people didn’t think I would want to join in with this. Absurd. But then I was the one wearing a winter coat and watching three strangers getting each other off, so maybe my laughter was misplaced.
I left the room and went back to the bar, where leather-jacket man had found another woman to bore, and I ordered myself a drink. While I was waiting for it, the door swung open and a very beautiful woman walked in. Behind her was Lee, cowboy boots and all. My heart leapt and then plummeted immediately. Because he put his hand on the small of her back, and I knew that getting him alone would be difficult when this woman, who was decidedly not his wife, was commanding all of his attention. Even I was finding it hard to look anywhere else. Lee was 54 years old. He might be trying to slough off some of those years with the hair dye and the regular gym sessions, but the fact remained. And remained inescapable when he stood next to this woman, who was really just a girl. A girl with five inches on me and lips which looked like they’d been sculpted by God himself but a girl nonetheless. It has always amazed me that older men would be comfortable with the visuals when people see them out with women this young. Do they not see how people laugh, and make their friends guess whether they’re with their daughter or their mistress? Or worse, how we think that they’ve coerced the girl, be it through financial power or emotional experience. But I’m a woman. Perhaps other men of a similar age really do look on with a mixture of envy and admiration. I feel quite often that it’s good not to know what goes on in the male mind. If we did, I suspect we would spend a lot of our lives in fearful despair.
The girl who was young enough to be his daughter said something to him and headed towards a side door. Lee was left holding her tiny Chanel bag as he came towards the bar, scrunching it up in his meaty hand as though it were made of paper and didn’t cost close to three grand. He was clearly fairly drunk, his eyes slightly glassy, his brow glistening with sweat. He smiled when he saw me, recognising my face. He was adept at greeting people as though they were old friends, an accomplished blagger who never knew your name but made you feel welcome and warm for the fifteen seconds he’d spend on you before moving onto the next person.
‘Hello again,’ he said as he reached me and air-kissed the space next to the side of my head. ‘I thought you were looking for something a bit more hardcore than this?’
‘I’ve found it,’ I said. ‘I’ve come here to invite you. But I see you’re busy tonight.’
He looked slightly confused and then looked down at the bag he was holding. ‘Oh her. She’s on the job, if you know what I mean.’
I nodded, not wishing to get into the details of how he was in the habit of hiring a sex worker some thirty years his junior, but he must’ve imagined I was still in the dark, because he leant forward, his hands slipping on the bar, and lunged at my face.
‘Virginie is a tart,’ he stage-whispered, breathing whisky fumes into my face. ‘A tart who looks like … art.’ He laughed at his own rhyme, and clicked his fingers at the barman, who narrowed his eyes and ignored him.
‘So are you going to try out this new place with me, or are you just going to talk big about all the dark and twisted stuff you like and never go anywhere remotely different? Virginie will do whatever you want, I guess. But that doesn’t strike me as very exciting. She’s not getting off on it. She’s getting her rent.’
He laughed again, but he was too drunk, and I couldn’t see how to nail this down before his friend came back to find him.
‘You girls are all the same. You put up a big show of being edgy, but you won’t do what I need. Paying for it is easy. I don’t have to ease this one into it, she’ll just get it done for the right price. Scowling bird that she is.’
‘Well, I won’t waste my time. I’ve found a place where everything is catered for, no questions asked. It makes this place look like a yoga class for bored housewives. I don’t want to go on my own, because where would be the fun in that? I think we could have a good time together. If you get tired of paying by the hour and want to play with someone who’ll really put their all into it, give me a call.’ I smiled at the barman, who came over immediately. ‘I’m sorry this man was so rude earlier. I believe he’d like to apologise. He’ll have a whisky on the rocks and whatever you’re having. And could I possibly borrow a pen?’ The barman delivered a biro and I wrote down my number on a cocktail napkin and put it in Lee’s jacket pocket. ‘Remember to save that before the maid finds it. Or worse, your wife does. Though I imagine that discovering a woman’s mobile number would be fairly unsurprising for her.’