The next piece in our series of work commissioned by sex workers is a short story by Kestra. This surrealist dark comedy explores what happens to ‘good’ clients, turning the fairytale frog/prince narrative on its head.
David sits in the hotel lobby bar, running his tongue over fuzzy teeth. He’s had a late lunch with an old mentor and he’s three bottles deep into some particularly lovely Beaujolais. Gliding his broad thumb down the condensation on his martini glass, he smiles to himself thinking; how come no one tells you how much better life gets as you age? Forty-six and slicker than ever! Maybe he’ll suggest a room to Maggie tonight.
He waves the cute brunette server with the ponytail over and orders two martinis. She smiles at him while taking the order. He likes her accent, Spanish? Portuguese? Something hot. She’s definitely flirting, probably his energy after today – he can literally feel how huge it is. Expansive. Checking his phone for the time, the brightness of the screen obnoxiously informs him that she’s late. Clicking it off, he goes back to fondling the side of the glass, carefully conveying the impression he is relaxed as he scans the bar once more.
Gwen sits in her old leather office chair, legs tucked up as she works on some embroidery for a collection of new work. Fresh cafetiere brewing, hair up in a bun, rain-sounds playing, layered with a murder podcast -It’s the perfect night in. Phone vvvbs at the other end of the desk, she ignores it and adds more beads to her needle. The phone goes off again and then again. Ok fine –
David:” Maggie, meet at Raleigh Bar at 6.30”
What?! Did they have plans? It’s 6.08pm now.
She checks her calendar, nope nothing booked in? She’s meant to be off tonight. That’s a classic David move. Damn it the bod is definitely not prepped for it tonight but it’s been really quiet at the club recently. She looks to the sink. Ok gotta be a hurried shave; pits and puss, reckon I can get away with my legs tonight, she thinks.
Spitty rain hits her in the face as she grapples with her phone, attempting to deal with the incessant barrage of messages:
“Where are you?”
“Are you close?”
“I ordered you a martini. It’s getting warm!”
“What’s the ETA? I’m in the normal bar.”
My god! chill man, it’s 7.12pm! she thinks.
She quickly types:
“On my way babe, excited to see you xx.”
And catches herself rolling her eyes whilst placing her phone in her pocket. Keep it together Gwen!
The Raleigh was a favourite of David’s. He has membership and insists on going there to show it off. Regardless of the fact that it’s completely vibeless. Scanning the bar, she spies him sitting on a high chair at a long communal table, his legs ever-so-slightly dangling off the side. David appears infantilised by the very furniture. Avoiding interrogation from the host as she walks in, with an appeasing smile, she says “I can see my friend at the bar, thanks.”
Slinking through the tables, her stomach rumbles. Man, I’m hungry, she thinks
“Hello you!”
He scrabbles to get up. David’s wall of cologne hits her nose so hard she can actually taste it at the back of her throat. How has no one ever suggested to him easing up on the amount he uses? She’s had to have midnight showers after dancing with him at the club before now because of how much she smells of him afterwards. He’s absolutely doused! Their server comes over,
“Are you ok for drinks?”
David says, “We’ll have the same again”
He leans forward and taps her nose. “You’ll have to play catch up Maggie”. Mimicking him she leans forward to touch his knee and winks. As he leans back, nodding in the direction of their server, he says, “‘She’s so hot, do you think we should invite her to our room later?”
Oh my god, this fucking guy, everytime!
She smiles and says, “No David, I don’t think we should, they’re just doing their job.” Oh shit! that’s a wee bit sharp, gotta amp-up the flirt. “So, how’s your affair going?”
He turns slightly away on his chair.
Damn what’s up now? I’m really off my game tonight, she thinks to herself.
“We’re having a sticky patch Pammy and I.. Don’t tell her we’re hanging out tonight!” he replies.
Ok ok, she reaches across to squeeze his forearm.
“Of course not babe, tonight’s just for us.heers!
And he’s back, such a child. Eugh, I hate martinis – I don’t think he’s enjoying his either, always such random choices. Waggling his eyebrows in a Harry Hill-esque manner, he says;
“I’ll be right back”
Plopping off the highchair, he sidles towards the loos. What a Dad!
Zoning out, Gwen suddenly feels her fatigue for the night ahead, the endless nothing conversation. Darting around the clunky innuendos, appeasing whilst remaining aloof. She’s gotta get him back to the club tonight somehow. She’s not on but the club will be ok with her coming in with David because he’s a big spender.
She ruminates on how low her own libido has been lately, not even a romantic wank, in what’s it been? Three months? Who cares? She notices again how ravenous she is. She should’ve had a pot-noodle but she didn’t have time.
Entering the bar again, David notices that the server’s back talking to Maggie. She’s definitely flirting. Reaching out, he tickles the nape of Maggie’s neck as he goes to sit down, oblivious to her instinctive repulsion from it.
“Getting better acquainted, girls? What’s your name darling?”
Great lips, he notes as she speaks to him. So plump!
“What’s that babe? Paul?”
Maggie, interrupts. “No, Paulina”. He flashes Maggie a look, she’s a bit of a nag sometimes. His tongue darts out to wet his lips,
“Well Paulie-babe, I think we’re ready for another round. Maggie, your call this time.”
He leans back in his chair, Maggie’s getting jealous of this bird. He waits for her to start the conversation. She’s always as cool as a cucumber, let’s see her sweat a bit.
Precariously leant back on his high chair, he’s such a toad, he’s practically melting into himself. He’s gonna make me work for it? Ok, watch this. She picks up her martini, eyes lowered, she swirls the olive around on its stick.
“So, did I tell you about Kelly, this girl I met at a fet-night?
She flicks her eyes up. He’s engaged. Kelly was the name of the girl who lived in her apartment before her but whose mail she still gets. She sips her drink.
“Yeah, we met because her sub-puppy came up and sniffed my crotch.. it was kind of like a meet-cute moment.”
Where the hell is this coming from?, she thinks. Whatever, he’s back now.
David watches her as she brings the olive to her mouth, she parts her lips and gently swirls her tongue around it a few times before popping it in her mouth and knocking back the rest of her drink. She looks back up at him. Fuuuckkk meeeee! Those eyes!, he thinks.
A tray of drinks float into his sightline, Negronis and two mystery shots. He’s barely glancing at the server now He thinks to himself, How long does it take her to clear some drinks?
He leans back a bit, “Yep, thank you Paul.” What a hoverer!
“Okay so Maggie baby, I’m thinking; suite upstairs after these?”
Why’s she laughing? No, she’s not getting out of it this time, it’s been months since he’s seen Pamela and Maggie’s always teasing.
“Don’t try to kid me into going to the club tonight babe, I can’t afford it right now. It will be more fun here anyway.” A statement.
Running her hand up his arm, giving his shoulder a squeeze, “Just chill darling, have these mezcals with me! We’re gonna have fun tonight. Keep it ambiguous. So, you like that server, yeah? They look a lot like this really fun new girl at the club, I’ve been wanting you to meet her.” she says.“Salut!”
David splutters. Oh! he struggled with that, maybe she overdid it with the shots?
Laughing; “Stay with me babe His watery eyes return to her,
“What do you want from me?” Wait, what? “What does this mean? What is this?”
Woah! He’s gone really quite red all of a sudden.
“What do you mean darling? We’re having a fun night together,” she replies.
He slaps his hand on the counter, “No, I want clarity!”
Fuck.
”Ok, ok sorry babe.”
A few people nearby look over, that was a bit loud.
“Let’s talk, What’s on your mind?”
Quietly he mumbles something into his lap.
“Uh, Sorry love I didn’t catch that, what?”
He looks so small. How’d she never notice this size difference? She leans in to
hear him, “mmrrrmrrmmm”. Still no. Waiting for him…
“I know it’s in you..”
Huh? A shiver slicks down her spinal cord, she’s not entirely sure what he’s talking about. An
awareness of her tongue is suddenly inescapable to her. She thinks, how is it so large all the time in my mouth? I feel massive, am I sitting differently?
“No fuck this, I’m a good guy, I deserve this!” His hands are slick and sweaty.
“Actually, I think I’m quite pissed. Be right back.” he says
Slipping off the chair with a flump! The ground seems further away this time round. Wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, he finds the sleeves have.. lengthened? How? Maybe the cuff’s stitchings have come undone? Weaving his way towards the gents, a heavy glob of nausea sits in the base of his stomach. This is horrendous! Why are these lights in the corridor so unforgivably bright? He stumbles over his trousers, trying to steady himself against a wall. He feels like he’s vibrating, a wall of fabric slips up in front of his vision, plunging forward into the darkness.
Ah fuck, what?! He scrambles to get out. It’s so hot in here. I’m having a heart attack, my pulse it’s so loud! Seering into his eyes, blue-white lighting way up above him in strips down this godforsaken hallway; less hot, too bright! Holy fuck, I need a second. Sweating like crazy.
She wants to just neck her negroni down but also doesn’t want to invite any interaction with that server if she can help it. They’ve been a bit too forward for Gwen’s liking. She is working after all and David is her client. What’s actually taking him so long though, such a weird vibe tonight. A couple of suits sit across the table from her, talking and looking over, she’s used to it. If David wasn’t here she might even go over and say hi, she’s about to hit that tipsy-bold sweetspot. Feeling more eyes on her, the host is directly staring. Damn! She’s picking up a bit of heat tonight. Ok, where the fuck is he? she gets up, headed for the toilets.
The hall way is jarringly bright. She slows her pace down to let her eyes adjust. There’s a feeble croaking sound to her left. She stops and looks. Again the sound. It’s a little toad, or is it a frog? It’s sitting against the wall. They waive their arm across their bulging eye in a clumsy toddler sort of way. Awh, they’re kind of cute.
Only the size of a fig. Crouching down, she picks the toad up and stands. It is actually a bit slimy, thought that was a myth, and it’s so tiny too. Looking right into its eyes, the creature blinks and starts wriggling, her heavy tongue involuntarily jerks. Without thinking, she pops the creature in her mouth, whole. Her enormous tongue pushes it down her throat.
“Oh!” She claps her hands to her mouth . “Shit! I didn’t mean to do that.”
She looks down, realising she’s surrounded by discarded parts of a suit. She looks up and no one is around. She turns to leave, but stops to pick up a lonely tie, in a paisley print. It wouldn’t be her first choice but it’s definitely silk. She shrugs, she slips it inside her jacket pocket and steps over the trousers. Shewalks out into the street, a bus rushes past with a gust of wind, she looks behind her before checking her phone. 8.47pm. Hmm, she’s suddenly less hungry,
That toad was definitely not vegan, she thinks. How am I going to discuss this with my therapist? Maybe this is just a me-thing? Weird how much you can compartmentalise this job. A pang of regret hits her chest as she holds her tummy. Shame though! He’s quite nice when he isn’t too drunk plus a really big spender. Checking her route on Citymapper, might as well go to the club now that I’m out, it is a Thursday.