The Cunning (18+)

25

"Same again?" Sasha asked, twisting the cap off the brandy and raising the bottle at Jase in question. He was sitting at the bar in the club. Red and purple lights sparkled off the glittering bar top. A handful of businessmen hiding from their wives for an hour were being loud and rowdy in one of the booths. It was still early, most of the girls had only just arrived for their shift.

"Double," Jase replied. Sasha free-poured his drink, placing the bottle back on the shelf and using tongs to drop in a single ice cube.

"Who are you waiting for?" she asked, picking the glass up and running a cloth underneath.

"A customer." On cue, the doors opened, and in walked a familiar face. His forehead, an extended surface due to balding, was shining with what Jase assumed was either grease or sweat. Both men wanted this meeting to be over as quickly as possible for entirely different reasons.

"Peter," Jase greeted, getting to his feet for the handshake. Madison's boss smiled in an attempt to hide the wince at Jase's intense grip. He was visibly nervous, which pleased Jase as he picked his glass up, washing down the bad taste Peter had brought with him.

It was one thing picking the girls up off the street and offering them a different version of a job they already worked, it was another paying £20,000 for a girl less than half your age. But business was business, and whilst in Peter's presence, Jase made sure to stray from the remnants of his moral compass.

"Jase, good to see you," Peter said.

Jase refrained from curling his lip and turned to Sasha. "Another brandy, please," he ordered, taking out his wallet and handing over a ten-pound note. Peter was grinning. The stench of desperation and eagerness permeated the distance between them.

"She hasn't been at work, so I'm assuming you have her?" he said, swirling the drink Sasha slid it over.

"We'll discuss this somewhere more private," Jase replied. Peter looked around, uneasy at the thought of leaving the eyes of bystanders but not having the guts to speak up. He bobbed his head reluctantly, letting Jase lead them down a corridor into one of the private rooms.

The men seated themselves in leather chairs opposite one another, placing the drinks on the small glass table in the middle. Jase allowed Peter to marinate in his discomfort. Peter rubbed his sticky hands together, then on his trousers, swallowing several times. His right knee bobbed up and down. Stretching out the silence, Jase took his time retrieving his cigarettes, slipping one from the box with his lips and extending it to Peter.

"Oh, I don't smoke," he said, waving them away. Jase shrugged, putting them back in the inside pocket of his jacket. "So, when do I get to see her?" Peter asked, unable to contain himself any longer. Jase took a deep lungful from the cigarette, watching the oily pig in front of him through his lashes as he exhaled.

"You didn't tell us she was seventeen," he said finally. Peter frowned, but before that, there was a fraction of hesitation and Jase was fast enough to clock it. Peter had known Madison was seventeen and lied to them. Jase didn't like being deceived.

"Why does that matter?" Peter asked, halfway between denying he knew and growing indignant.

"We have rules, Peter. No one under eighteen in the house." This was a lie. There wasn't a strict criterion they followed, but they avoided anyone who wasn't legally an adult. They were more likely to turn up on the evening news.

"So what now? Are you going to let her go?"

Jase shook his head, watching his cigarette burn. "You've got two options," he tapped ash in the glass tray, "you can wait until she's eighteen and pay double our usual price per session for lying to us, or you can pay an additional ten grand now. It's your call."