‘I wish I knew that you were joking.’
‘You really want to do this?’
‘Yes. I think it’ll be … enlightening. Look, come around here.’
I wheel my chair round to his side of the desk, where he is firing up a website. I gasp and drop my jaw, as a large photograph of me naked – scanned from one of Sash’s pictures – appears on screen. My face is pixelated, but the body is definitely mine.
‘What the fuck, Lloyd?’ I look around wildly, as if expecting a legion of sex-crazed punters to burst through the office door at any minute.
‘Relax, it isn’t live yet. This is the preview. When you give me the OK, I’ll unleash it on to the World Wide Web and see what happens. Take a look at the site and tell me if you want to make any changes.’
I scan the text, but find it hard to process. I’m reading an advert for myself, essentially, but I don’t really recognise the goods described.
‘“Sophie is a classy, stylish young professional woman, able to hold her own in any social situation. She is well informed on a wide range of conversational topics, holding a university degree and possessing a dry sense of humour. Scratch the smartly suited surface, though, and you will find an uninhibited slave to pleasure.”’ I make a face at Lloyd. ‘Did you write this?’
‘What? I thought it was quite good.’
‘“Sophie’s sensual nature will delight and impress you. You will be back for more.”’
‘I just need to add in the rates.’ Lloyd taps away on the keyboard. ‘Overnights only. I’m not doing any hourlies. Not for this task. It’s important that you do the full escort schtick, including conversation. Though probably the man will just want to talk about himself, if I know my high-end johns, which I do.’
‘How?’
‘That gambling den I used to work in was always full of them.’
‘Right.’ I squint at the screen. ‘Have you airbrushed that picture?’
‘Nope. It’s one hundred per cent Sophie.’
I bite my lip. ‘It’s actually quite nice.’
‘Yes, it is. Isn’t it?’ He turns to me and smiles, as if in pity. ‘I’m almost sorry to give you this task. I think it’s going to be ten times more difficult than any pure sex game would be. But I’m going to have a question for you at the end of it, and I want you to keep it in mind throughout.’
‘What is it?’
‘I charged seven hundred pounds for this. What should I have charged?’
‘Is there a right or wrong answer to it?’
‘Yes. And if you answer wrong, you fail.’
; ***
‘His name’s Conrad.’
Lloyd has cornered me on the third-floor corridor, where I have just emerged from the room of a guest hysterical about the lack of park view from her west-facing window.
‘Conrad? German?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Anyway, that’s his name, and he wants you.’
‘Do I want him, though?’
‘It doesn’t matter, does it? He pays for you, he gets you.’
‘So, where, when?’