Читать книгу Confessions of a Lapdancer - Литагент HarperCollins USD, J. F. C. Harrison, Professor J. D. Scoffbowl - Страница 8

I didn’t like the look of pity on Tania’s face when I walked into the office.

‘Geri, Daryll asked to see you about ten minutes ago,’ she said. ‘I covered for you but I think you should go straight away.’

‘Really, Tania? If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,’ I said, smiling sweetly.

I could feel myself losing my cool but had to hold it together for the meeting with Daryll. God knows what he was going to say about the incident at the Pearl.

He saw me approaching and smiled in that annoyingly paternal way of his. ‘Geraldine, my dear. Do come in and sit down. Would you like a tea or coffee?’

‘No thanks, Daryll. You’d better just say what you think of me,’ I said, preparing myself for the worst.

‘What I think of you?’ he repeated. ‘Let me tell you something, Geraldine. When I was a naïve young man on the dealing floor, there was such a thing as an initiation ceremony. My colleagues took me out to a strip club, where a lady of the night stripped me down to my underwear as she removed her own clothing. I was utterly humiliated and obviously the butt of my colleagues’ jokes for some time.

‘What you did at the club last night, my dear, was to turn the initiation on its head. Almost literally, when you did that extraordinary move on the pole. Geraldine, after all your time here, you finally initiated yourself into the Brothers. Well done,’ he laughed.

For a moment I was speechless. I thought he had been about to tear strips off me.

‘God, Daryll, I thought you were going to put me in detention, not give me a gold star,’ I said. ‘Trust me, it’s not a ceremony I will be repeating.’

‘Well, despite the entertainment, I’m pleased to hear it,’ he continued. ‘Now let’s get back to business.’

‘That sounds good to me,’ I said.

‘It’s been a good year for the team, Geraldine, and you have been at the heart of it.’ He handed me a sealed envelope. ‘This is to say thank you for all your hard work.’

I opened it quickly, in silence. The letter inside confirmed that my bonus for the past year would be £20,000. Oh shit. I’d expected much more, counted on it in fact, but was determined not to show any sign of disappointment.

‘Thanks, Daryll, that’s great,’ I lied, beaming so wide my cheeks hurt.

‘My pleasure, Geraldine,’ he said, moving towards the door. ‘You’re a great credit to Sloane Brothers. I’ll see you later.’

As I made my way down the ‘catwalk of doom’ that took me through the open-plan part of the office past most of my colleagues, I felt several pairs of eyes boring into me for any clue as to what had just happened.

I kept gazing straight ahead and avoided any eye contact, passing Tania without a word and closing my office door.

Sitting down at my desk, I realised I had been clenching my right fist so hard that my nails had made heavy indentations on the palm of my hand.

I felt like punching a hole in the wall.

I’d taken a calculated risk in buying my house in Greenwich, borrowing over the odds and budgeting for a bigger salary top-up to comfortably afford my monthly repayments. Now I was in the shit, lumbered with a huge mortgage and a stallion I wasn’t prepared to sacrifice.

My train of thought was interrupted by Tania knocking on my door.

‘Geri, can I come in?’ she asked.

‘Um, just a minute,’ I replied, quickly checking my make-up in a compact mirror. ‘OK, what is it?’

‘There’s something you should know,’ she said. ‘There’s an email going around that lists everyone’s bonuses. The guys on the floor all know who’s getting what. Did you receive it?’

I quickly scanned my inbox but couldn’t see anything.

‘Christ, Tania, how come you know more than me about what’s going on?’

‘I’m just telling you, Geri. I thought we were a team?’

‘Yes, right … but bonuses are none of your business,’ I told her. ‘If you’ve got one of these emails can you please forward it to me now?’

‘OK, Geri, no problem. I’ll do that immediately. And … I’m sorry …’

I motioned for her to leave and close the door. A few seconds later, the email dropped into my inbox.

My heart was pounding as I opened it up and scanned the list of names. There was only one I cared about: Luke Cotterill. Next to it was the amount: £30,000.

His name came alphabetically just after mine, of course, so the difference was made even more painfully obvious. I’d been with the company for two years; he’d been there two months, yet he’d bagged £10,000 more.

My head felt as if it was about to explode. Luke bloody Cotterill had landed a bigger bonus than me, simply for having a dick, as far as I could make out. And my God, was he a prize dick. OK, the guy had the balls to play the market and had a good brain, but he had the interpersonal skills of a chimpanzee. Surely it would have been better to have me on-side?

This wasn’t the worst of it, though. By the time I’d gone down the entire list it seemed as if every jerk in the office had received more than me.

A lone tear started to make its way down my face, blackened by Mac mascara. This time I’d been well and truly shafted by the boys’ club, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I dabbed my face with a tissue and made myself presentable again, but who was I kidding? It didn’t matter how hard I worked, how much money I brought in, I was never going to outgun the big swinging dicks. Short of having a penis transplant, it just wasn’t going to happen.

I needed to get out of there. But I still had the morning to get through before I could attend to practical matters like going back to the Pearl to collect my wallet. At least I had an excuse for not joining them for lunch. For the rest of the morning, I barricaded myself in the office, even forbidding Tania to disturb me. Then on the stroke of noon, I opened the door to my office and strolled out, a huge fake smile plastered on my face.

‘Tania, hold the fort, I’ll be out for a couple of hours,’ I announced.

‘Oh, right, where are you off to, Geri?’ she asked.

‘I’ll be on the mobile,’ I said, knowing I was being rude, but not giving a shit.

If Luke Cotterill had so much as looked at me the wrong way as I left the building I might have done something I’d have regretted.

As I walked towards Canary Wharf Tube, I thought how I never wanted to go back to the office again.

Fuck ’em all, I thought. I might as well go and be a lap dancer and get screwed that way.

I jumped on the Jubilee Line to Green Park and walked the rest of the way to the club. At least I wouldn’t have to be part of the lunchtime back-slapping that the Brothers would currently be indulging in at Ubon.

It was strange seeing the Pearl in the cold light of day, its neon sign switched off. Any semblance of glamour disappeared without the veiling mystery of the night. But as I descended those red-carpeted stairs into the womb of the club, it came back to me how liberated I had felt the night before.

‘Hi,’ I said, recognising the girl behind the desk as the one who had given Luke his lap dance. ‘I’m Geraldine Carson. I’m here to collect my purse?’

‘Oh yeah, I’ll just ring Declan,’ she said in a raw East End accent.

‘Who’s Declan?’ I asked.

‘Declan Meleady,’ she said. ‘He’s the manager.’

‘Right,’ I replied, wondering if he was the dark-haired guy I’d spotted the night before, talking to Tania.

She disappeared for a moment, then returned with an odd smile on her face. ‘If you just go in the club and wait at the bar, Declan will be with you in a minute,’ she said.

As I perched myself on one of the high stools I surveyed the scene of my crime. Part of me wondered ‘What the hell was I doing?’ but there was also a tingle down my spine.

‘Miss Carson?’ said a voice behind me.

‘Call me Geri,’ I replied, turning round and blinking in the lights.

‘Hi, I’m Declan Meleady,’ he said in a sexy Irish voice, as I finally got a good look at the man who had given me unspoken permission to take over his club the night before.

He was even better close up: well-cut dark brown hair, with warm brown eyes and the sturdy build of a stable hand. He was wearing a very expensive suit, almost certainly Savile Row’s finest, with a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt underneath.

‘Here’s your purse, Geri,’ he said. ‘I was going to contact you anyway.’

‘Ah yes, it was you in the top booth last night, wasn’t it?’ I said, drinking him in. ‘I’m intrigued why you didn’t set your Rottweilers on me – I was breaking the rules, after all.’

His eyes twinkled as he smiled softly at me. ‘It’s my job to make sure the customers are happy,’ he said. ‘And that means knowing when to send in the clowns and when to back off. I had a few regulars in last night and I could see they were enjoying your impromptu performance, so I allowed it to continue.’

‘And did you enjoy my performance?’ I asked, realising I was flirting with him.

‘Indeed I did,’ he replied. ‘I was most impressed.’

‘Wow, thanks,’ I said. ‘That was my first time.’

‘But will it be your last?’ he asked.

‘I’m sure it will. I already have a very well-paid job,’ I replied, opening my purse to check its contents.

It was only then that I realised the £500 worth of cash I’d taken out to pay for drinks at the club was missing.

‘Oh shit,’ I said, feeling a little panicked, ‘I guess I shouldn’t be surprised the money’s been lifted but, Jesus, I could have done with every penny of that.’

‘What happened to the very well-paid job, then?’ he asked.

‘Still have it, but it’s perhaps not quite as well-paid as I’d like,’ I explained. ‘I have a high-maintenance mortgage and horse to support, you see.’

‘Really?’ He sat up more in his seat, and leaned forward a little. He smelled good; all musky and manly. ‘I part-own a racehorse in Ireland myself.’

‘Well then,’ I said, warming to Declan even more, ‘we must compare form some time.’

‘I don’t know how to ride,’ confessed Declan. ‘Well, not horses, anyway … I’m only in it for the investment.’ What a tease, I thought.

I liked this man – he was alpha without being aggressive; smooth without being oily.

‘So pay in the City is not all it’s cracked up to be then?’ he smiled in empathy.

‘Well, it is for the boys,’ I explained. ‘But it seems the girls aren’t always invited to the party.’

‘I’d invite you to my party any time,’ said Declan. ‘If you were ever thinking of changing career, you could walk into a job here. Or shimmy, should I say.’

‘Are you serious?’ I asked.

‘Let’s say I was only half joking,’ he said.

‘OK, I’m curious now,’ I smiled, enjoying the banter. ‘How much could I earn, in theory?’

‘Well, on average, between £400 and £500 a night,’ he said. ‘The big West End clubs pay more but then there’s a list of rules and regulations as long as your arm. Here, it’s more relaxed and there aren’t so many girls on each shift, so you’ll get more tips.’

My mental calculator was doing back flips – I worked out that if I were to do a shift every night from Wednesday to Saturday, 8pm to midnight, for six weeks, I could potentially clear £10k, which would keep Zeus in hay for the foreseeable future, and me with a roof over my head.

‘God, that’s tempting,’ I said, recognising a good deal when I heard one. What was stopping me? Well, one very good reason. ‘It’s just a shame that I have an image to protect. After all, my real job would be down the pan if the guys saw me working down here.’

‘That’s not a problem,’ said Declan. ‘Mayfair’s not our only branch. We have clubs all over.’

His voice was working its charms on me. The answers came slick and easy. Ten grand couldn’t be sniffed at.

‘So, hypothetically, if I were to take up the offer, could you guarantee that income?’

‘Well, there are no cast-iron guarantees,’ said Declan. ‘But with your natural talents, I can’t see there being a shortage of admirers.’

I paused for a moment to reflect as Declan moved behind the bar.

‘Here, I’m sure you could do with this,’ he said, pouring Sauvignon Blanc into a chilled glass.

‘Thanks, you read my mind,’ I said, taking a large sip. ‘Look, you seem to be a straightforward kind of guy, Declan, unlike most of the shits I work with. Between you and me, I was expecting a bigger bonus at work and it didn’t come through so I need the money. Fast. Plus I got such a kick out of dancing last night.’

‘Not half as much of a kick as I did watching you,’ he replied, and we both laughed.

This man had more charm in his little finger than all the guys in the office put together and I felt so relaxed in his company. But I had to be careful – after all, somehow he knew Tania, and I had yet to get to the bottom of that little conundrum.

‘I’m glad you thought I had potential,’ I said, pulling back a little. ‘Perhaps you can help me develop it.’

‘I’d be delighted to,’ he replied.

‘Listen, Declan, I really appreciate your confidence in my ability, but obviously I need to consider this really carefully,’ I told him. ‘I’d be risking my career if anyone found out that I was even speaking to you about this.’

‘Sure, Geri, I understand,’ he said. ‘You take your time.’

‘Thanks, Declan,’ I said, offering my hand. His was big, warm and pleasantly rough.

He escorted me to the door, which was the most gentlemanly act I had been on the receiving end of for some time.

I floated back to the office, buoyed by Declan’s flattery. He really was serious about the job offer, I knew that. But could I really hack it as a lap dancer?

There were a few puzzled faces at Sloane Brothers. Obviously they’d been expecting me to look crestfallen but I felt like I was coming back from a spa. Suddenly the world was full of options.

I closeted myself in my office and told Tania I wasn’t to be disturbed. I needed to think clearly.

You must be out of your mind, Geraldine Carson. Why the hell would a woman like me, who has fought so hard to succeed in a man’s world, go off and do the very thing that might unpick all her efforts?

I started to think about the consequences of being found out – what would happen at work, what would my poor parents think? This was a high-risk strategy, but isn’t that what had got me up the career ladder in the first place?

I had to be honest with myself – the danger factor was the most attractive part of it. I’d always enjoyed chasing a deal, but ever since I discovered my natural talent for riding, I’d also become hooked on the visceral rush.

I’d experienced the same kind of gut-level thrill after dancing at the Pearl, only this time the success of my performance was down to me and me alone. I was the thoroughbred, riding the pole, and it felt good. No, more than good – it felt great.

I had no worries about my physical abilities or showing off my body. Where the serious doubt kicked in was whether I could handle it mentally and emotionally. I imagined a scenario where I’d had a tough day at work and a customer got too familiar with me at the club. It could go one of two ways. Either I’d lose it and unleash a barrage of verbal abuse that might get me sacked, or burst into tears and run off stage.

I thought of Declan and his comforting presence, but he wouldn’t always be there to make sure I was OK.

However, it would be a particularly delicious sort of revenge on Luke and the Brothers to earn money out of using my sexuality when they thought I had zero sex appeal.

I knew I would face moments of self-doubt but getting in touch with my inner sex goddess and parading her in public was too much of an adrenalin high to resist. I just had to be ultra-careful that my two worlds never collided …

My mind was already made up. I picked up the telephone.

‘Declan? It’s Geri Carson here. Can you speak?’

‘I’m all yours.’

‘OK, good. What the hell. Screw the Brothers, screw them all. If the offer’s still there, I’m going to take it …’