April popped a chewing gum bubble as she checked the website for bookings. Her inbox was empty apart from the usual lurid crap she had come to expect.
BigPenis52: I want 2 do U up the arse. U will beg 4 more.
Unlikely. She rolled her eyes as she pressed delete and moved on to the next one.
RogerUSensless: U so fine babes, msg me so U can suck my cock.
‘I don’t think so,’ April said, pressing delete. She clicked on the third, a small groan escaping her lips.
ServantOfGod69: You have sinned, but I can help you see the light. Let me save your soul.
‘Really?’ she said, binning the email until there was nothing left. Three lousy emails: two from people who were illiterate, and one from a self-proclaimed servant of God who used a sexually suggestive username. She rested her chin on her hand, still chewing mechanically as she clicked through her website pictures. That photo of her sitting naked in the bucket chair was as hot as hell, so why had all her bookings dropped off? It would have been nice to raise some extra cash given it was her last day but it was slim pickings as the market was flooded with women offering themselves up for little or nothing. At least her profile pictures were real, unlike the fresh-faced nymphs on her competitors’ sites. It was a far cry from the emaciated, grey-skinned reality. Back in the day, when she aspired to better things, hers were taken by a proper modelling agency in London.
There used to be a time when she could command £300 a client, but now she couldn’t even keep a roof over her head. Sex trafficking was big business in the city, and the women brought in to service the punters were in no position to complain.
April shut down the laptop, vowing to count her blessings. At least she was free. Tomorrow she would start her new life. But she could not help but feel sad for what could have been. At just seventeen, she had travelled from Essex to London with a head full of dreams. Too short for modelling, she was told that being a high-class escort was the next best thing. She had a nice body and certainly wasn’t shy when it came to showing it off. Sex was something she enjoyed, and she never had to get up for work in the morning and squeeze herself into the tube for a daily commute. Working for the Crosbys had been the perfect arrangement. She had met Lenny at a party in London, and he offered her a job, after requesting a ‘test drive’ that night. She had heard all about the Crosby family, and Lenny’s lavish lifestyle was something she wanted for herself one day. Crosby girls had the opportunity of meeting footballers and politicians, he told her, and bagging herself a sugar daddy was something she had always dreamed of. He wooed her with the promise of upmarket clients and offered some much-needed protection.
And now, less than two years later, he refused to answer her calls. Losing her job was the beginning of her downfall. She had become too accustomed to the champagne lifestyle; when the bubbles flowed freely, so did the coke. And who could blame a girl if she wanted a little pre-sex booster? If the clients took it, it seemed only natural that she would too. She still missed it, still got the itch for the euphoria only a cocaine high could bring.
She had tried his number only this morning because she was too upset to face the facts. It was time to leave London, give up her dreams and go home. Besides, there was more than just her to take into consideration. When her friend, Lorna, called and offered a lifeline it seemed like it was meant to be. The hotel her friend was working in was taking on staff. She had a spare room, and April could begin paying rent as soon as she was earning. So she had said yes. Today was her last day in the big city. The train tickets were booked, and tomorrow she would begin her new life in Essex. Near home.
It went somewhere towards building back up a relationship with social services, who had placed her little girl in foster care. Not that she could blame them. She had committed a cardinal sin by choosing to party over her child. They knew what she did and said it was too dangerous for a small baby to be embroiled in such a hedonistic lifestyle. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried but it had been so hard. The incessant crying had drilled into her brain along with the torturous lack of sleep. It’s why she wheeled little Charley into the same hospital where she was born and just left her there. It hadn’t taken them long to catch up with her and get the social involved.
April shook away the thoughts. It was all in the past now. She was going to be a good mum; she would learn how. She clutched a packet of cigarettes as she left her flat. God! It was pissing down outside. That was all she needed. She certainly wasn’t going to miss this. Another pang of regret. Gone were the cocktail dresses and yacht parties. Her standards had hit rock bottom in the last six months. She sighed as she pulled up the hood of her jacket, wishing she hadn’t lost her umbrella. It had been a nice one too. Burberry.
Flecks of rain spiked her face, and she swore as she walked the rain-splashed path. Just one more job, she told herself. The doctor had surprised her this morning by requesting her company. She had hoped for something better, so she could cancel their appointment. He wasn’t the most pleasant of clients but a good earner nonetheless. A man of little words, he requested just minutes of her time, promising to pay her double the hourly rate. She was about to say no when she thought of the money, and it would be OK, over in a flash. She had to work hard to suppress the feeling of her flesh crawling when she was with such an unattractive client. She would keep her eyes tightly shut and imagine she was screwing one of those Hollywood stars instead. It had taken a good stretch of the imagination in Doctor Tanner’s case. It was more than his disfigurement that made her shudder, he smelt as if he had crawled from the belly of the sewers. A dab of Vicks under her nose helped block out the pong.
That was a trick taught to her by a copper when he told her stories of jobs he had been to and things he had done. A regular client, he was a good man. A little bit sad, in need of female company.
She crossed the road, her fingers gripping the hood of her jacket. Rain slashed against her bare legs, and she felt her internal alarm flash a warning. What are you doing? There’s a murderer on the loose. She paused, biting her lip as she tried to recall the directions. Trying to ignore the slice of cold fear. Should she go there on her own? People had asked her to do it in the strangest of places but in a derelict building? Was it safe? She had known Ellie Mason, and now she was dead. Poor cow. Unable to get off the gear, her life had spiralled since she stopped working for the Crosbys. It was reading about Ellie’s death that had helped convince April to throw in the towel. The police had advised all working girls to keep themselves safe yet she was going to a derelict building, without telling anyone that she was there. She pushed away the warnings; she was being paranoid. Doctor Tanner was a regular. All the girls knew him and, if she didn’t hurry up, she’d be late. Besides, he must have been a respectable man once. She had seen the certificates on the wall of his flat. Get a grip, she told herself. Ten or fifteen minutes, max, and you’ll have enough money to keep yourself going for a week. Her teeth chattered as the cold air brushed against her legs. Marching on, she lowered her head against the rain.