Page 4 of Rafferty's Rules
‘Come on, darlin’.’ I frown as the middle-aged bloke she’s with tries to pull her up.
‘Ew, stop touching me!’ Snatching her elbow away, she swipe at the air with her hands as though to fend him off. We had a golden lab when we were kids; she kind of looks like him doggy paddling his way out of the creek. Our mutt wasn’t American, though.
‘Suit yourself.’ He shrugs, standing straight as he brushes the thinning hair from his forehead.
‘Johnno,’ Candy squeaks, ‘who’s your friend?’ She makes her way over to the pair, fawning over the bloke as though he’s the best thing she’s ever seen, well, since I walked in. And he just laps it up, pulling her in for a hug.A hug of her arse, if we’re getting technical.
‘She’s just some chick I met at the door,’ he replies. ‘I reckon she might spice our appointment up a bit.’
‘In your dreams, pal.’ The cute brunette snorts, using the wall to help her stand, then slides on her shoe. ‘No ’ffense,’ she adds, pointing a swaying finger at Candy. Not that it’s just her finger that’s swaying as she throws out her hand to steady herself against the wall. ‘You look like a lovely person, but I’m here strictly for thed.’
‘ ’Ere, love, I gotta dick for ya’!’ The greaseball cackles. And just in case she missed the point, he grabs his crotch.
No wonder he’s paying for it.
The brunette screws up her nose. ‘I’m here for the extra bigd, not your sad, little teeny weenie.’ She shakes her head, turning to the other woman and adding sotto voce, ‘Believe me. I gotta sixth sense about these things.’
‘Oi, my dick isn’t tiny. You tell her, Candy!’
Who knew keeping your trousers on in a brothel should be this much fun? I try not to laugh as, ignoring him, the brunette adds, ‘And, honey, is not my business but, you could do so much bedder than him.’ She hiccups, covering her mouth with her hand.
‘ ’Ere, watch your mouth,’ he complains. ‘I got you in, didn’t I?’
‘So?’ She shrugs, turns, and points at me. ‘Now that’s what I’m talking about. I’m all about that. And I’m all about the sex.’
Fucking surreal. What’s the polite way to answer that? Apparently, little Miss Hot Librarian has the answer, and that answeristhe sex as she begins stripping out of her clothes by whipping the T-shirt up her body and off over her head.
‘Hey, you can’t strip in the lounge!’ one of the working girls yells.
‘Why not? This is a brothel, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Then let’s get naked!’
‘Stop! We don’t have what you’re looking for here.’
‘What?’ Her T-shirt dangles from her wrist, tangled in the strap of the small, rectangular monogrammed purse she wears across her shoulder.
‘We don’t have male escorts here.’
‘Whaddaya mean you don’t—I’m lookin’ at one.’ Giving up on unravelling herself from her T-shirt, she readjusts her black frames primly.
‘I wish,’ I laughingly reply. Maybe just for her, not that this is appreciated by the working girls.
‘Come on, baby,’ she drunkenly slurs. ‘I’ve got the money if you’ve got the time.’ With that, she shoves her hand into her purse and pulls out a thick wad of fifty-dollar notes, some fluttering to the floor along with her compact, lipstick, and some other girly shit.
‘And you can’t come barging in here, harassing our clientele. And he,’ the woman adds, grabbing my arm for emphasis, ‘is not an escort.’
‘Hey, I know a male escort,’ Karma interjects. Good old Karma—she’s like the spiritual sense of cause and effect, helping a girl out. Even if it does earn her a frown from the other working girls. ‘I can give you his number if you like?’
‘But I want him. Come on,loverrr.Put your moneymaker where my mouth is!’ After announcing she wants to give me moneyanda blow job, she then begins making it rain fifty-dollar bills with the finesse of Lil Wayne.
Fucking surreal. Another place and another day, and I wouldn’t even need the enticement of a drink to get busy with this cutie.
‘You can’t have him,’ Candy squeaks. ‘We only have female escorts here.’
‘Thas bullshit—thas is discrimination! Imma write a letter to your gov’ment about the unequal opportunities for the female traveller in your beautiful but unfair country!’ She ends the declaration with a decisive nod. And then begins to unbutton her jeans, setting off a cacophony of voices.
