We were going to stop off where I lived and he would pay me there. It was wrong. It was exhilarating. And it was risky, because in this small area, a BMW is noticeable, and so am I; and my mum could be out walking the dogs. And she knows a lot of people in the area from walking the dogs, so what if one of them saw me and Roland and told her?
“Yes, what if you were seen getting out of a BMW when you were supposed to be in Edinburgh?” Roland grinned like a pervy shark.
I was trying to figure out what to tell my mum if she asked about my day; “She usually never asks me, or she just asks if I had a good time, but it’d be just my luck if she asked me this one time,” I explained.
“Yeah, you’ve got to get your story straight,” he said, savouring every word.
Earlier, I’d asked what his parents would think of this sordid affair.
“They’d think it was naughty, but then, boys are naughty,” he’d replied.
“So I’d be the naughty one? I’d be the slut?”
He nodded. “Yeah, they would think of you as a slut.”
Later, he’d taken his wallet off a shelf, and the wallet was hugely fat with all the money in it. The notes were bulging out. He looked at the money inside and stuffed some more wads in, all the time while driving. Then he told me to count it. I counted it 3 times and got a different answer each time, which is normal for me. This is why I always count money 4 times, so that 2 amounts will match. Like I said, I’m not good with numbers. Roland suggeted I fold a note around each hundred so it’s easier to count. I was dizzy from lack ofsleep when counting them. It was £740 or something. That’s what he’d thought it’d be. He said we coukl stop at an ATM where I lived.
Right now, I was happily fretting over being seen. What a thrill! Roland asked where there was a cash machine and I suggested we park at the supermarket, where there was less chance of my mum or one of her acquaintances spotting us. However, there would be few cars in the car park at this time, so if someone did happen to be coming out or going into the supermarket, we would be conspicuous. A BMW would be more conspicuous parked than it would be driving along, where it could just be passing through. (Most cars are old or cheap in this town/area).
Roland’s age would also cause more suspicion if my mum heard about it; if he’d been my age he could be a friend or another student.I wondered about saying he was my boyfriend if it was suspected, but decided no way. Roland seemed to agree, though to be honest I’ve no idea what he was saying because I was so wrapped up in my own fantasies of being caught. I know he rubbed my leg and said he wouldn’t say he was my boyfriend or that’s not what he’d call this relationship. Well, obviously; I don’t even think we’d qualify as fuck buddies or friends with benefits, as we’re not friends and money is being exchanged. I’m his prostitute and he’s my punter. If I was seen with him, and it was suspected I was sleeping with him, I would have to tell the truth about the deal. No way could I let anyone think this old fat guy was my boyfriend; I couldn’t bear the shame. Unless they knew he was a millionaire; maybe that would be okay. (I didn’t say this out loud, of course.)
“You must have been waiting for something,” he said, “You’re very pretty; you could have lost your virginity; you must have had many chances. But something was holding you back. And this Chastity character, you want to kill her, don’t you? Get rid of her?”
I understood what he was saying. “Chastity is a part of me, my sort of secondary personality? She’s been keeping me from losing my virginity and when I do, she will die?”
“Yes, that’s what I think. You’re part virgin and part whore. She’s the virgin and you are the whore. But it’s only now that you’re getting stronger than she is, and I wonder why.”
I was pretty stunned. “I think that might be true,” I said, “Yeah, I see it. How did you know?”
“I can just tell. Something was holding you back. You have all of these desires but something was stopping you.”
I felt it was all true. I know Roland is the personification of a part of me, too – the sexually adventurous, slutty, experienced, sadistic domme side. Chastity is the repressed, innocent and submissive side. Songs of Innocence and Experience – as a five year old I’d thought they should have been named ‘innocence’ and ‘evil’. But often it is experience or power that make us evil. And experience that makes us powerful.
Experience makes us formidable, changes us, makes the innocent easy prey for us. Before the Case I was innocent; a 9 year old still largely trusting even though I knew people could lie and be bad. Now I am experienced, trusting no-one, with an arsenal of tools at my side to challenge any libels and lies, to trick perpetrators into revealing their misdeeds, to win addendums clearing my name.
And prostitution will be much the same.
William Blake was right all along.
We took the shortcut we’d spotted on the way down, and Roland said he was a total pervert, and asked me what my mum would think of him – whether she’d think he was a pervert.
I said, “Well, you’ve got a PhD, so even though you’re a pervert at least you’re educated, so she wouldn’t mind.”
“I’m an educated fucking pervert. So that’s okay.As long as I’ve got a degree.”
Earlier, he’d been a little worried that Magda would find something – a hair, something– and I’d said, “Will she spank you if she finds out?”
He’d chuckled. “No, it’ll be much worse than that.”
Roland and I came out into where I lived, and I pointed to my house, fairly close as the crow flies but still half a mile away on foot. He looked at it (well, the whole street, as he probably couldn’t distinguish this particular house. Or maybe he could, because I told him which number it was from the side.) He’d said he needed yet another coffee despite having had three coffees already – “that’s like a drought! I need 10 cups of coffee a day”. He’d asked me where to get coffee here and I told him. That cafe was the local daytime/evening hangout for teens and young people because there was so little to do here. I’d been for a interview there once – ironically just after I’d got a Saturday job. It was weird thinking of Roland in there.
I suggested maybe he could stop on the high street, as then I wouldn’t have to carry the £1000 very far if he parked in front of the bank (we both have accounts in the same bank). The High Street meant, paradoxically, more chance of people who knew me walking by but less chance of sticking out like a sore arse (heh) in a nearly-empty carpark.
Roland glided the car onto the main street and parked right in front of the bank. He got out, withdrew the cash, came back and counted it out, then made me count it. He was paying me cash because the bank had queried the cheque.
“And did they query it?” he’d asked.
“No,” I’d said, “The lady just said ‘wow, I’d like £1,000’ and I said ‘I had to work very hard for it’ but she didn’t ask me anything.”
Roland giggled at that. “The bank did query it,” he said, and so his secretary had asked him to approve it/if he’d signed a cheque to one Kalika Gold.
“I said, ‘yes, she’s a lawyer’,” he’d reported. I’d asked if he’d had to think before replying or got nervous but he said he didn’t.
It was £1,000. I kept thinking I was seeing people I knew or my mum passing by but it always turned out not to be them. It was such a thrill and I was having so much fun.
I told Roland I didn’t want to wait that long before seeing him again.
I still hurt from the cane, and said so. It was really funny, but sore. He said he was sorry.
“Don’t be sorry; it was fun,” I said.
A police car pulled in front of us. We were talking for a bit – not the wisest thing to do as really I should’ve got out of his car quickly to avoid being spotted. Roland asked me to kiss him, which I don’t like doing in case he gets attached to me and vice versa. Snogging is different because it means power.
We were going to kiss when Roland says, “Oh there’s a police car. We’ll wait till it goes away.”
It left almost immediately and we kissed, which was kinda nice and I liked it more than last time at the bus stop. Only much later did I realise that neither kissing (even of under-16s) nor prostitution is a crime (unless you’re soliciting or kerb-crawling – ie streetwalking is a crime but not other forms of sex work). So we were pretty stupid to think the police would be interested. I’d wondered if the police had parked and left so quickly because they’d seen Roland come back from the ATM and hand over a wad of cash, and suspected prostitution. But of course not, as it wasn’t streetwalking; perhaps they suspected illegal activities or maybe the police car was just a coincidence. I think we were wary of the police because we knew we were doing something naughty.
Roland said to enjoy the money. “And I do hope your bottom gets better,” he added.
“You’re not as cruel as [fictional] Roland, you’re a lot nicer,” I observed.
“No, I’m not as cruel as Roland. I do hope it gets better.”
As I got out he said, “Watch out for cars. And mothers. Watch out for mothers.”
Two minutes later after waving him goodbye as he sped to the cafe just along the street, having asked me for directions, I was in the bank putting the money that had just been taken out into its old familiar home.
The End of this chapter
Awaiting the next part of my adventure…