Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“Hardcorers United, I like it.” I laugh. “Maybe we should start up a quiz team or something? What a name.”
“Or you could use it as a hook. Buy one, get the other partner free. Limited time only. Must include anal fisting.”
“Now that I really do like the sound of.”
We’re still laughing when Eb stops to look in one of the designer store windows. She’s scoping out a beautiful summer dress in bright red poppy print, displayed like a dream on a mannequin. Then she notices the price tag displayed underneath and widens her eyes. It’s four hundred pounds.
“I wish,” she says, and goes to walk on by.
It occurs to me then, just how wide the gaps are when it comes to The Agency pay scale. My filth levels and ambitions have always been sky high, but I had plenty of vanilla proposals early on – mainly from guys offering a few hundred quid for the basics. Back then, when I first heard about being an entertainer, I thought a few hundred a night was crazy money, and it was, compared to my day job. But now, accepting the level of proposals I get offered has put me in a whole other league. The cash value rockets as your naughty list boxes get ticked.
Eb has a few clients who like things a bit different, but most are regulars, wanting the standard week on week. Mouth, pussy, ass – a few hundred a go. She works a fair few nights, so she earns a decent living. But with the house, and the kids, and her husband working for little pay, a dress like that is quite a spend for her.
But not for me. Not anymore.
“Let’s go and take a look at it,” I say and gesture to the entrance.
“Hardly your style, babe. Can you imagine turning up in that to one of your proposals? They want their filthy gothic princess, not a girly girl in poppy print.”
“Not for me,” I say. “For you.”
Her eyes lock on mine when she gets what I’m saying, and she shakes her head.
“You don’t need to do that. I was only commenting in passing.”
She wasn’t, though. I saw the way her eyes lit up when she saw it. The mannequin shows it off like it was made for her, and I can imagine her wearing it, enjoying the float of the fabric at summer barbeques with the boys.
“Let’s just go check it out. Just to see.”
“Ells,” she says. “Honestly, keep your cash for yourself. You should be spending money on your own wardrobe, not mine. You’re the one who takes it hardcore, not me.”
“Yeah, because I like the hardcore. That’s why. It’s hardly under duress, is it? Plus, my wardrobe is getting bigger by the week. Josh will need to get another few wardrobes soon at the way I keep expanding my collection. You can think of it as saving me a clothes hanger.”
“For four hundred quid?! That’s an expensive clothes hanger.”
I adore the woman in front of me, so beautiful and styled, but still so humble. I wouldn’t be here now, in the stately streets of London with a hefty wedge of cash in my bank account if it wasn’t for her introducing me to The Agency. I wouldn’t be the confident Ella I’ve grown into if she hadn’t believed in me and encouraged me. I wouldn’t be with Josh. I wouldn’t have been able to visit my parents at Christmas. I wouldn’t have been able to quit my store job. My life would still be an absolute piece of shit.
“Please,” I say. “Can we just take a look?”
She knows me too well, even though the bulk of our friendship has been on video call.
“You don’t owe me anything, babe. You give back more than enough to everyone who ever helps you, just by being you.”
I take her hand at that, dragging her towards the store doorway.
“And that kind of sentiment is exactly why I want to see you in a dress like that. You deserve it, just for being you.”
“Ella,” she says, but her feet move along with mine. “Fine,” she says. “Just a look though, ok? I’ll try it on, but don’t go dashing to the counter if it looks less than perfect on me.”
“It’s going to look like perfection on you. I already know it.”
We walk through the aisles, checking out the displays until we see the selection of poppy dresses. Her eyes light up all over again as she holds one up on a hanger. It’s even more stunning up close. The silky lined fabric is gorgeous.
“It’s really nice,” she says, “But four hundred quid? I could buy six dresses for that.”
“Tell you what,” I say. “I was going to be looking for a crystal bracelet today. I was thinking silver with a bit of onyx. How about you buy me a bracelet, and I’ll buy you a poppy dress?”