Chapter 25

She was met by her fellow door-girl who introduced herself as Angela, and said she came from Poland. Deborah doubted both pieces of information and mentally berated herself for forgetting to give herself a working identity. Angela explained that there were two hostesses because it was necessary to spend time with a client inside the club and it was at the street that the process began so somebody had to be there. Angela was dressed in a tiny mini skirt, fishnet tights and a spangled bra-top and tottered on six-inch heels. In the daylight her makeup looked grotesque. Deborah felt overdressed in her shortest skirt and tiniest vest top and escaped to the ladies as soon as she could to strengthen her makeup and remove her bra. Angela introduced her to Barbara who ran the bar and the other security man who, unnervingly, was called George. Barbara was overdressed, over made-up and, by the look of her, over the hill. Deborah suspected she had once been a more active participant in the business.

“What do you drink, love?” asked Barbara. “ You don’t want to have any alcohol or you’ll be off your face before the night’s out, but you tell the punters you are having your favourite cocktail. Then I make it non-alcoholic, see. Orange juice? Okay. We’ll make your favourite cocktail today a tequila sunrise. That’s what you ask me for. The punters have what they like. It’s all the same price.”

“Two door girls need at least two security men,” Angela explained. “This business is all about one thing,” she said. “The job is to get as much money as possible out of men who are too embarrassed, too ashamed, or, sometimes, too scared to complain afterwards. The most important thing you will learn is how to judge quickly how much money a man is worth. Come upstairs to the door and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Angela pointed out several types of men as they passed, looking openly or sheepishly or ignoring the photographs and the pink neon sign promising ‘Scandinavian Striptease – Members £10 only’.

“You can tell the locals, can’t you? The guys who just work around here or are delivering stuff aren’t really interested. They’ll give you a smile or a wink and just keep going. We’re not interested in them. But watch out for men who look out of place – especially foreigners because they have more money. The Japanese always carry loads of cash, which is what you want. We don’t accept cheques or any of your flexible friends. Cash only. If a guy hasn’t got enough cash to pay his bill, Tony or George will go to the cash machine with him. There are three or four around Shaftsbury Avenue and Piccadilly Circus. What you really don’t want is a guy with no cash and no cards or whose cards are at their limit. You get them but you have to spot them quick and get them out – if only for their own sakes. They are wasting your time and if a man can’t pay with money Tony and George will make him pay some other way. I don’t like that, so…Ah! Stay in the background and watch me. Hello, sir! If you are looking for a nice way to spend an hour or two, we have the best show around here.”

“Er… No thanks. I’m just… er… looking around.”

“Good idea, sir. It’s an interesting area, isn’t it? If you’d like to call in on the way back, we’d love to see you. My name’s Angela and I can be your hostess and tell you what we can offer. See you later.”

“Er… yeah, fine. See you later… perhaps, er… Angela.”

“American,” said Angela quietly to Deborah while flashing a massive smile at the departing man. “He’s probably here on business but with his wife. Did you see the mark on his finger where he’s taken off his wedding ring? It’ll be in his pocket. He’s heard of Soho and decided to have a look while his wife is either shopping in the West End or in the Jacuzzi at the hotel. He’s not from one of the big cities – a bit of a country boy but not from the deep South, maybe Virginia or Kentucky, somewhere like that. He’ll be carrying travellers’ cheques and cash – mostly dollars. We accept dollars. We don’t want the travellers cheques but we can take him somewhere to cash them if necessary. There are a couple of all-night money exchange kiosks quite close. He’ll be back unless he gets hooked into somewhere else first.”

Deborah closed her mouth and blinked. “Wow! You got all that in just a few words?”

“You’ll soon get the knack. Always remember to think money. If Mario makes money, so do you. You talk sex but you think money. And you close your eyes and ears to everything else. If Tony or George give you the nod, just go behind the bar and out through the curtain and go back to work on the door. The guys will take care of any problems and take the punter out of the back door. It’s not your concern so never get involved.”

“What about the ten pound strip show. Who does that?”

“Nobody. Nobody gets a strip show for ten pounds. The rate is at least one hundred pounds and can be five hundred. Depends on how much you think the guy can pay and what you can find out about what turns him on. There are plenty of girls around here at night who will strip. You don’t, ever, mainly because the pay is terrible, only thirty or at the most fifty pounds. Most of the girls are either foreigners who are here illegally and who don’t speak much English or, less often, English girls moonlighting for the extra cash. That is why they strip and you are on the door. You can talk to the men, they can’t. And another tip; never leave a punter alone. You are his hostess. If you leave him you will lose him one way or another. Call over Barbara and tell her what you want for the man. She knows what to do and will bend over you on the side away from him so you can talk quietly without the man hearing. You never get up or move away.”

“And if one of them wants more than a strip show… if he wants sex?”

“Same thing. You nod to Barbara; she will be watching and she will come over. Try to find out exactly what the man wants – always easier when he has had a couple of drinks – tell Barbara. She will set up a girl by telephone then one of the guys will take the man to the girl’s flat. There are lots near here. Again, you do nothing except talk to the man and get him to spend money. The tarts are sometimes students, sometimes foreign girls, sometimes women with other jobs who need money but they don’t make much. The man pays us in advance – usually George or Tony – and we pay the girls… much less of course. How much? As much as you can get of course but never less than a couple of hundred pounds for a quick visit. You want to persuade the man to spend the night or ask for something kinky. Money, more money, you see.” The change of subject was disconcerting. “Do you use anything?”

“Use anything? I don’t… oh, you mean drugs. No, no I don’t. Why?”

“Good. Stay that way then you can walk away when you don’t need the money anymore. This business if full of girls who have to stay in it because they have a habit they need money for. Most of the tarts and strippers are like that. You stand freezing in winter, dressed like this, but this is the better-paid end of the business, here, on the door. To stay here and not slide downwards you need to avoid expensive habits.”

“Do you take anything?”

“Sometimes a little smoke but nothing else. Pretty soon I shall leave. I haven’t told Mario but he knows I have done this for nearly five years and that is a long time. That’ll be one of the reasons he took you on; you’re his insurance in case I leave. In this business you either get out or you go downhill, the odd trick for a customer, then another. Very quickly you are trapped. This job is brutal - it is tricking men out of money, ripping them off, so it makes you very hard - but you can leave if you have enough money. Look, let’s get to work. What do you make of those two guys?”

“Where? They might be Japanese businessmen?”

“Malaysian or Indonesian, I think and on business or on holiday. It doesn’t matter. One of them has a camera; an ordinary one – not digital. Here we go. Good afternoon, gentlemen. Are you enjoying your holiday?”