The Hostess by L. P. Gibbs

Author:L. P. Gibbs [Gibbs, L. P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PublishNation
Published: 2021-08-24T22:00:00+00:00

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ESCORTING

Time passed quickly and a year or so later Samantha began to feel bored with the same routine, night after night. Any thoughts of what had gone on in Newcastle had long since disappeared from her mind.

She mentioned her misgivings to Carla in the early hours of one Thursday morning when they had finished work and were enjoying a real drink in one of the illegal drinking houses in Frith Street. Carla understood and told her that she had been having similar thoughts herself of late.

“But the money can be quite good sometimes,” Carla responded. Samantha agreed with her friend. There was no way she could earn that sort of money in a normal job and she knew it.

“There must be something else we can do?” she ventured. Carla appeared to be thinking as she sipped her watered down gin and tonic. She wrinkled her nose as she looked accusingly down at the glass.

“I think that bastard Callum behind the bar has diluted this way too much,” she said. “It's almost like drinking nothing but tonic water, the greedy git. I know he needs to make a profit but this is taking the piss.”

“I know, in fact it tastes like piss, too.” They looked at each other for a couple of seconds then burst out laughing.

Just then, Alan Randall came in, chatting and laughing with two men in grey suits. He introduced them to Callum, the barman as his 'good friends', asking him to 'look after them'. Leaving them to the mercy of the barman, he turned and was about to leave when he saw the two girls sitting at the table.

He walked over to them with that disarming smile of his playing across his face. Samantha could feel her heart fluttering as he sat beside her and waved in the general direction of the bar. A double measure of Jack Daniels bourbon with two ice cubes appeared at his elbow within a few seconds as if by magic. It was the real thing too. The barman would never dare even think of trying to con Alan Randall or water his drink down. Randall was a 'face' not to be reckoned with. He nodded his thanks to Callum and winked at the girls.

“Been a quiet night,” he said, raising the smeared glass to his lips. “I think I deserve this.” The fiery liquid almost went down in two swift gulps and he rested the near empty glass back on the chipped, Formica topped table.

“How did you two get on at the club tonight then?” he enquired. The pleasing aroma of his Aramis after-shave lotion gradually wafted across the table and Samantha smiled to herself.

They told him that their evening had been remarkably dull with very few customers and that they were considering other avenues of employment as they had earned very little that night. He looked at them through half-closed eyes for a moment before replying. He took a weathered business card from the breast pocket of his jacket and slid it across the stained table to Samantha.

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