Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Wait a second, I know this place,” Ella says, breaking away from me to do a spin. Something hits her, hard, and she looks like a gothic angel as she wells up. “No way! What the hell? I didn’t think this was the Central Parade shopping centre. I had a proposal here last year. A new client when I was a newbie myself.”
I can’t help but laugh, bursting through her tender moment as I point out a sign for a charity grotto up ahead.
“What happened? Did you empty Santa’s sack for twenty grand?”
She grins. “No, no. The client was Santa at the grotto, actually. But he wanted a plus-one for his work party. He said he was desperate for a companion. He didn’t want to go alone.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Right… a companion for Santa… that he could finger under the table, by any chance? Did you give him a desperation discount? You got suckered in there, Ells.”
Ebony gives me a side eye, and I realise I’ve let my party girl mask slip. I sound bitter.
“Sorry. I had a late one,” I say. “I’m a bit yowchy.”
“Ah, yeah, I remember now,” Eb says to Ella, and takes her hands, so sweet. “This was the client who said he was desperate for a companion, but ended up giving you a lump of cash for charity instead? The guy who wanted to see who would help him if he sent out a load of requests?”
Ella nods. “I thought I was helping him out for thirty quid, I really did, but no. He gave me a shit ton of money. I handed it out, too. I took it out in handfuls from the ATM and gave it to people on the street outside.” Her breath hitches. “He was amazing.”
Fuck sake. Everything is amazing to Ella. I’d usually smile at her humble, charitable soul, but unfortunately two little kids walk by holding hands and I get itchy. I shouldn’t have come. I’m so not ready yet.
Eb points to the grotto sign.
“Shall we go and see if Santa is playing Santa again this year?”
“We shouldn’t,” Ella says. “You know what the regulations say. I shouldn’t even be talking about him at all.”
Ella is such a sweetie when it comes to the rules. I roll my eyes, because we’re long past that. Sure, the rules say strictest client confidentiality at the highest cost, but we all work for the same Agency, with the same bank of clients on the user list. She can tell us she had a ‘proposal’ with Santa last year if she wants to. It’s not as if we’re going to blab it on speakerphone, and she’s hardly going to broadcast it to the mall that he’s signed up for sex services.
“You’re allowed to go to the grotto, just like everyone else,” Eb says, with a shrug. “It’ll be fun. You don’t need to acknowledge his dick or the fact you’ve seen it.”
“I haven’t seen it,” Ella says, surprisingly defensive. “He asked me to accompany him to a meal for thirty quid, I turned up because I thought he was lonely, and he gave me thirty grand because I came to help him. That’s all. No dick whatsoever.”
“He gave you thirty grand without even waving his dick? How rude.” I laugh, humour back for real. “I’d want at least a glimpse of Santa’s sack if I’d trekked out on a job, charity pay out or not.”
Ella looks overwhelmed, tears still welling. Bloody hell, this Santa guy must have made an impression.
“Do you want to see him again?” Eb asks her. “If he’s such a great man and didn’t so much as pay you for a hand job, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you calling by and saying hello.”
“I’d love to see him again, if it’s the same Santa.” Ella grins. “He might not remember me to be fair, even if he is.”
My laugh is a massive cackle. “Who could ever forget you?! You’ll be stamped into his spank bank for all time.”
My co-worker, Ella – known as Holly to clients – is an absolute stunner, and the girlfriend of my best friend, Josh. She’s a leggy, big titted, gothic beauty who climbed the ranks of our Agency so fast when she started last year that she’s rivalled my number one chart position in less than twelve months. I have a lot more curves on offer than she does – understatement – but that’s about all. Every single item on her ‘Naughty List’ profile is checked now. No holes barred.
But they weren’t when she would have done her charitable gig for sweet Santa. She was still a little Christmas angel herself, learning the dirty ropes.
My bitter hangover eases up a little.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand, because screw it. Ella’s joy at seeing Santa is more important. “Let’s get to the grotto. I’ll sit on his lap myself if my butt will fit.”