A Day at the Office
The French put it very succinctly: “There is no such thing as a stupid job, there are only stupid people.”* I know, I studied French to “A” level. Some people are doctors, prime ministers, teachers, but I work as a prostitute
The man walked into the parlour _ the massage parlour that is _ where four other sauna birds and I were sitting waiting for punters. I was hoping to find the money for the gas bills today, and was pleased when he walked straight towards me without a glance at the others.
Are you free? he asked. I gave him my usual response: Available yes, but ’fraid not free. He smiled and nodded. He paid Bill who gave him a large towel. I led him downstairs.
My first time, he said. ’Fraid not mine, I quipped. He asked for my name, and I said Jodie. I didn’t bother asking him his, as I already knew it, but he said it anyway, ‘John Smith.’
Once in the cubicle I got the shower going for him, and he had a quick wash. In the meantime, I had got rid of my lingerie and was sitting on the edge of the bed with just my knickers on. I noticed that he seemed a bit lost, so I thought a little small talk was called for.
Do you have children, John? I asked. His face brightened up.
‘Aye, two,’ he said, ‘do you?’ I shook my head. He was still uneasy.
‘How old are they?’
‘I’ll show you.’ And he took a rather elaborate smart phone from his bag and played with it until he found what he was looking for.
‘That’s Diana, my older one. I called her Diana after Princess Di. I know I am prejudiced, but she’s much prettier. I’m afraid you can’t see her face very well, but she has a cheeky smile, trust me. She’s incredible.’ And he began telling me more about her. Such a lively little thing. She was doing very well at school, except that the teachers didn’t like her for some reason he could not fathom. He showed me twenty more snaps of Diana none much clearer than the first one, and regaled me with stories of the young prodigy. He had about fifty pictures of her drawings.
‘A budding Picasso, I tell you.’
‘She’ll become a Hollywood superstar some day.’ I did not quite see the correlation between Picasso and films, but smiled and nodded.
‘Oh, that’s an egg I had for breakfast. I thought I just about caught its essence, don’t you?’
I gently pointed out that fifteen minutes of the forty-five that he had booked me for were already gone, and he said it would be unfair if he did not show me pictures of his boy Charles.
I call him Carlo, he said, explaining that he hated Charlie or Chas. A chip off the old block, he added merrily, such a sense of humour. And he explained what a dab hand the boy was at repartee.
‘Once … you have to laugh, I said if you have the time come to my room and I’ll show you something. You have to laugh. Five minutes later he comes into my room showing me a lemon.’
‘What’s that for Carlo? I asked.
‘Daddikins … he calls me daddikins when he wants to be funny, you said, if you have the lime, come to my room… you get it?
‘The little rascal was making a play on words on time and lime, you understand.’ John Smith laughed so much, I thought he’d never stop. And he gave me several examples of the boy’s witticism, shaking his head, repeating, ‘Takes after his old man, he does.’ I wondered when he was going to start the business, but he did not seem too impatient. I still had my knickers on.
‘Oh I’ve got some good ones of the wife here,’ he said, and proceeded to show me some.
‘Afraid her face is cut off in this one, but believe me, she’s...’ words failed him
‘We were on holiday in Costa del Sol,’ he pursued, ‘but sol there was none, ha! ha!. Must remember to tell that to Carlo. He’ll love it.’
‘This one is out of focus.’
‘I was trying a long exposure, but my hands trembled.’
We had still not got down to business when the bell rang.
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘The Desk telling me we only have five minutes left.’ I started pulling my knickers down.’
‘Oh but I must show you Tiger.’
‘Tiger?’
‘He’s not really a tiger, he’s our Labrador. We call him Tiger.’
The bell rang again.
‘ ’Fraid our time is up. I’m sorry.’ I said. I thought he’d be devastated, but he was very understanding.
‘I’ll pop in again next week,’ he said, handing me some tenners.
‘Righto,’ I said, ‘I’ll look forward to that.’ He got dressed in record time, and as he opened the door, he said, ‘I’ve got plenty more to show you.’
*Il n’y a pas de sot métier, il n’y a que de sottes gens.
