Ruby by Heather Burnside (carter reed txt) 📗

I don’t take it. And I won’t be offering any other services. If the clients want that they’ve got plenty of other girls to choose from.’

Victor looked slightly taken aback and for a moment Ruby regretted being so sharp with him. It was a common mistake that a lot of clients, made but it still annoyed her when they expected S&M services.

Ruby had already decided that the only role she would perform in addition to jointly running the club with Tiffany was that of a dominatrix. She’d also had a rethink regarding Tiffany. They had enough girls offering their services so she wouldn’t have to get involved in anything other than running the club. Ruby had had enough of having to sleep with men for money or imagining what they were doing to her girlfriend. In fact, the only reason she was still offering dominatrix services was because it paid so well. And, aside from that, she enjoyed it.

As Victor continued to explore the room she waited by the door. Eventually, satisfied that he had seen all there was to see he joined her, ready to leave the room. She turned and pulled the door open and, as she did so, she felt Victor’s hand pat her buttock as he said, ‘Well done, Ruby. I’m proud of you and I’m sure we’ll do well out of this joint venture.’

‘Not if you don’t take your hand off my backside,’ she said between gritted teeth.

‘Oh, sorry,’ said Victor, quickly pulling away from her, his face red and his head twitching. ‘I must have got carried away with all the excitement.’

Ruby was furious. Despite the number of years she had spent on the game, she hated men taking liberties with her and thought she had finally said goodbye to that part of her life.

‘Like I said, Victor, I don’t offer any other services. I’m a dominatrix, that’s all.’

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ said Victor. ‘My apologies.’

Ruby was still angry but, despite her resentment at the feel of Victor’s roaming hands, she let it go. She felt she had no choice. Victor held the purse strings and without him she wouldn’t even have her massage parlour. But if any other client should ever dare to overstep the mark with her, they would get exactly what they deserved.

32

May 1998

Trina hadn’t known what to expect of Shelley’s flat, but nevertheless it was a surprise. In her mind she’d built Shelley up; everything about her seemed edgy and glamorous so Trina supposed that subconsciously she’d expected the flat to fit in with this ideal.

It was in a large Victorian house in Whalley Range, approached through the main front door and then up some stairs to the first floor where there were two other flats. The front door of Shelley’s flat led onto a hallway, which was in need of a coat of paint and there was a faint musty smell in the air. Shelley led her through to the lounge, which was the first door on the left. It held an interesting mix of high-end furniture, high tech electrical goods and more outdated furnishings.

Several shabby cushions looked out of place on the trendy leather sofa, and the two armchairs pre-dated the sofa by about twenty years. The TV was huge and there was a sophisticated stereo system mounted on a battered, old-fashioned table. Here the décor was also in need of an update, but the musty smell had been masked by a powerful air freshener.

‘Do you wanna cuppa or do you wanna take your bags to your room first?’ asked Shelley who was dressed today in tight-fitting jeans and a cropped top, her makeup heavy but still enhancing her pretty features.

‘Can I take my bags to my room?’ asked Trina, curious to see what it was like.

‘Course,’ said Shelley.

Trina followed her down the hallway and through another door to the right. When she entered the room, Trina couldn’t hide the look of disappointment on her face, which she guessed Shelley must have noticed as she said. ‘I know it needs decorating and that. I’ve not got round to it yet.’

‘Oh, it’s OK,’ said Trina, eyeing the torn wallpaper, curtains with a fading flower design, mismatched bedding and old-fashioned dark wood wardrobe. ‘I can soon decorate it.’

Shelley smiled. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the flat.’

The rest of the flat was in a similar state except Shelley’s bedroom, which was bigger than Trina’s and had a modern wardrobe and chest of drawers.

‘I’ve bought some stuff for the flat,’ said Shelley, ‘but I’ve got a bit to do yet.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Trina. ‘We’ll be able to make it really nice.’ Then she asked, ‘Where do you take them?’

‘Who?’

‘The customers. Where do you take them?’

‘The clients?’ said Shelley. ‘You don’t think they come back here, d’you?’ She laughed. ‘Not a fuckin’ chance! I don’t want any of ’em knowing where I live.’ Then, seeming to sense Trina’s discomfort, she said, ‘Come on, let’s go and have that cuppa and I’ll tell you the drill.’

When they were sitting back down in the lounge, Shelley began talking.

‘It’s one of my rules,’ she said. ‘I never bring clients back here and I don’t want you to either. You don’t always know what or who you’re dealing with so it’s best they don’t know where you live.’

Trina couldn’t hide a look of alarm so Shelley quickly added, ‘Oh, don’t worry. Most of them are alright but you get the odd weirdo. The other reason I don’t bring clients back is because I don’t want the other residents complaining. It could land me in a lot of shit if they report us to the police, not to mention the landlord.’

‘OK,’ said Trina. ‘Where do you take them then?’

‘It depends what they want. Some take you back to a hotel room, a few take you back to theirs but most of ’em just take you somewhere deserted so no one can see you in the car.’

‘What, you mean,