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won't,” I tell him. “And nor will my father.
I mean, what parent would? They still think I'm their innocent little
girl.”
    “ Oh no, you've clearly blossomed into a sexually
adventurous young woman. And I'm sure you're the better for it. The
world certainly is.”
    He laughs and continues to gulp his wine, while I
hastily send my eyes around the restaurant to make sure no one can
hear what he's saying. The sight makes him chuckle even more.
    “ It's OK my dear, we're quite out of earshot of
anyone.”
    The meal continues, our main dishes being removed and
desserts being brought out. Randall continues to talk, his loquacious
character coming to the fore, but most of what he's saying goes over
my head.
    Because there's one thing, and one thing only that I'm
thinking about – my dream. Fifty thousand dollars for a half hour
of sex, and suddenly my dream is within grasping distance. And who
knows...a few more shows and maybe I'll be able to rent a studio and
begin working on my designs.
    Fashion designer by day, sex performer by night.
    Wow, how my world has changed.
    I'm drawn from my thoughts at the end of the meal, when
Randall suddenly turns his attention back to business.
    “ Are you able to perform this coming Tuesday?” he
asks me.
    With only the briefest hesitation, I answer in the
affirmative.
    “ Excellent. Paulo, your driver, will pick you up at
the same time as before. The process will be the same, except for one
thing – your partner will be different.”
    “ OK.”
    “ Now, let's enjoy the rest of this bottle of wine
shall we?”
    He picks up the bottle, refills our glasses until it's
empty, and places it back on the table. Then he lifts his up, and I
follow, clinking them together.
    “ To a prosperous relationship,” he says. “And...to
your delightful mother. She really was a lovely woman.”
    He winks, and I laugh, suddenly feeling more alive than
I ever have.

    Chapter Two

    On the same day as I'm preparing to perform for the
second time, the money from my inaugural show appears in my bank
account.
    I hate the old cliché of 'it hasn't sunk in yet' that
just about every Olympian utters when they win a gold medal, but
truly, seeing the sight of fifty thousand bucks in my account will
take a bit of getting used to.
    Frankly, it seems like monopoly money right now,
like some sort of joke, a mistake by the bank that will be quickly be
rectified. I'm fully expecting to wake up later this week with my
account suddenly bare again. Or perhaps receive a phone call from the
bank manager apologizing for their egregious error.
    Never in my life have I seen or had access to that sort
of money. It alone is life changing, enough to get me back on my feet
and searching for a new job if I want one.
    But, right now, the thought of returning to regular paid
employment is farcical. Why bother when I can earn more than a years
salary with half an hour of incredible sex?
    No. It's my dream of designing my own fashion label that
has truly taken hold.
    But, of course, today I'll be performing once again, and
so my mind is split between the wonder and joy of seeing the money in
my account, and the inevitable nerves that accompany a big
performance.
    No matter how many times actors and sports stars head
out onto stage or the giant arenas they play in, they are always
nervous. So now, even though I've already been there, done it, and
got the t-shirt, my heart is rampaging and my mind spinning.
    It would help if I was fucking Brett again. The guy was
dynamite, and we quickly got to know each other's rhythm. But it's
not Brett, it's someone new. And, well, that's enough to make me have
to catch my breath every so often during the car journey into
Manhattan.
    Once more, the driver, who Randall has revealed is
called Paulo, takes me the distance without saying a word. I do
wonder how much he knows of what I'm doing and what goes on in the
grand mansion near Central Park. The cheeky looks he gives me
suggests he knows