I’ve thought about that. That happens.’
Baxter nodded solemnly. ‘But you’re still here.’
She quirked a half-smile. ‘I’m still here. Look, there’s the odd girls who are married and do it to earn extra money. If I was lucky enough to be married to a decent fellow, I wouldn’t do that to him. I’ve seen the odd girl get an offer of marriage.’ She gave Baxter a hopeful look under her eyelashes. ‘There’s all kinds of men come here. There’s men who’ve lost their wives or could never find a wife—and there’s some who want to take it out on all women by being as rough as possible while they’re with you.’
Baxter tensed, wishing he could get his hands on the bastards who’d hurt this lovely girl. ‘I hope you can steer clear of them in future.’
‘Tell me about it. And once you lose your looks and figure, you’re ready for the scrapheap because most men won’t look at an old piece. The younger, the better. A young girl fires them up. After a few years at this game, you get to look old.’
‘What will you do then, Rosa?’ Baxter asked gently.
She gave him a strange sort of smile as she got up off the bed. ‘I reckon I won’t live that long, Greg. The thing is, what do I have to live for now?’
‘There might be more out there for you than you think,’ Baxter said, getting to his feet too. ‘Well, the hour’s up.’
She looked him up and down again. ‘You sure you don’t want sex? You’ve paid me enough for it.’
‘No thanks,’ Baxter said, holding up both hands and taking a step away.
‘All right.’ Her smile was a little too bright. ‘I’ll have to go and earn some more money now.’
‘Would you mind if I come again? I’ve got a few more questions.’
‘Your money’s as good as the next fella’s.’ Rosa’s smile turned wicked. ‘And if the other girls see you coming to me, my prestige will go through the roof.’
As they went down the stairs, a tall, tough-looking man passed them. He had long fair hair tied in a pigtail and a bony face with peculiarly hollow cheeks. Was this the man Rosa had described as being ruggedly handsome?
‘Another client?’ Baxter asked, to make sure.
‘That’s my, er, boyfriend. Alan.’
‘The fellow who got you started on drugs?’ Baxter asked harshly. ‘The one who brings you heroin and takes your money?’
‘Yeah, that’s what he does, Greg. But he also looks after Prue and me—sees that the men do right by us. Anyway, see you around, handsome.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Baxter met with Rosa on two other occasions. Each time they went to the flat, where she did her best to answer his questions. On the second occasion, she told him she wasn’t feeling very well, and he asked if she’d been eating decent food. She looked far too slender and, from what she told him, her meals were very hit-and-miss affairs.
Baxter asked if she’d like to have a meal with him. Not just any meal, but dinner at a top restaurant.
Rosa stared at him and frowned. ‘You’d take me to a restaurant? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a prostitute.’
‘You’re also a human being,’ he said. ‘You look to me as if you could use a nice piece of underdone steak and some green vegetables.’
‘Who’s paying?’ she asked, crossing her arms.
‘Me,’ he said and smiled.
‘What’s your angle, Greg? You should know by now that you don’t have to take me out for a meal to have sex with me.’
‘I know that, and you should know by now that I’m not looking for sex. I told you, I’m a writer. I’m interested in how you react in different situations.’
She gave him a steady look, then laughed softly. ‘You’re a queer bugger, Greg. Queer but nice. You’re not a poofter?’
‘Definitely not. So, have a meal with me?’
‘It would have to be lunch. I’d miss too much custom at night, and Alan wouldn’t like that. There’s always some girl trying to take your spot, and they seem to be getting younger and
Baxter nodded solemnly. ‘But you’re still here.’
She quirked a half-smile. ‘I’m still here. Look, there’s the odd girls who are married and do it to earn extra money. If I was lucky enough to be married to a decent fellow, I wouldn’t do that to him. I’ve seen the odd girl get an offer of marriage.’ She gave Baxter a hopeful look under her eyelashes. ‘There’s all kinds of men come here. There’s men who’ve lost their wives or could never find a wife—and there’s some who want to take it out on all women by being as rough as possible while they’re with you.’
Baxter tensed, wishing he could get his hands on the bastards who’d hurt this lovely girl. ‘I hope you can steer clear of them in future.’
‘Tell me about it. And once you lose your looks and figure, you’re ready for the scrapheap because most men won’t look at an old piece. The younger, the better. A young girl fires them up. After a few years at this game, you get to look old.’
‘What will you do then, Rosa?’ Baxter asked gently.
She gave him a strange sort of smile as she got up off the bed. ‘I reckon I won’t live that long, Greg. The thing is, what do I have to live for now?’
‘There might be more out there for you than you think,’ Baxter said, getting to his feet too. ‘Well, the hour’s up.’
She looked him up and down again. ‘You sure you don’t want sex? You’ve paid me enough for it.’
‘No thanks,’ Baxter said, holding up both hands and taking a step away.
‘All right.’ Her smile was a little too bright. ‘I’ll have to go and earn some more money now.’
‘Would you mind if I come again? I’ve got a few more questions.’
‘Your money’s as good as the next fella’s.’ Rosa’s smile turned wicked. ‘And if the other girls see you coming to me, my prestige will go through the roof.’
As they went down the stairs, a tall, tough-looking man passed them. He had long fair hair tied in a pigtail and a bony face with peculiarly hollow cheeks. Was this the man Rosa had described as being ruggedly handsome?
‘Another client?’ Baxter asked, to make sure.
‘That’s my, er, boyfriend. Alan.’
‘The fellow who got you started on drugs?’ Baxter asked harshly. ‘The one who brings you heroin and takes your money?’
‘Yeah, that’s what he does, Greg. But he also looks after Prue and me—sees that the men do right by us. Anyway, see you around, handsome.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Baxter met with Rosa on two other occasions. Each time they went to the flat, where she did her best to answer his questions. On the second occasion, she told him she wasn’t feeling very well, and he asked if she’d been eating decent food. She looked far too slender and, from what she told him, her meals were very hit-and-miss affairs.
Baxter asked if she’d like to have a meal with him. Not just any meal, but dinner at a top restaurant.
Rosa stared at him and frowned. ‘You’d take me to a restaurant? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a prostitute.’
‘You’re also a human being,’ he said. ‘You look to me as if you could use a nice piece of underdone steak and some green vegetables.’
‘Who’s paying?’ she asked, crossing her arms.
‘Me,’ he said and smiled.
‘What’s your angle, Greg? You should know by now that you don’t have to take me out for a meal to have sex with me.’
‘I know that, and you should know by now that I’m not looking for sex. I told you, I’m a writer. I’m interested in how you react in different situations.’
She gave him a steady look, then laughed softly. ‘You’re a queer bugger, Greg. Queer but nice. You’re not a poofter?’
‘Definitely not. So, have a meal with me?’
‘It would have to be lunch. I’d miss too much custom at night, and Alan wouldn’t like that. There’s always some girl trying to take your spot, and they seem to be getting younger and
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