dissociation

Edge of Intimacy – 29 December 2000 – 1.15AM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

On the queen-sized bed in my suite at the Radisson, I’m lying face down. My head’s buried in a feather pillow. Mickey’s sitting on my backside. He doesn’t feel heavy. I’m probably not accurate at guessing a man’s weight but I reckon he must be at least ten or eleven stone. He’s about five foot ten or a little under. Though he’s not well built, his body’s toned. Muscle weighs more than fat and he doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

He’s rubbing Stix’s mum’s aloe vera gel into my skin. He’s done my front, which cooled the heat and soothed the soreness of the sunburn. Now he’s doing my back, but my back isn’t burnt. I’m not going to stop him though. Being massaged makes a change. I’m always the one giving a massage, for money of course. I like the feeling of his touch on my body. His hands are warm and soft. I don’t feel anxious like I have done when he’s touched me before.

“You’re gonna have to stay out the sun for a few days. Let this heal.” He rubs the gel into my thigh. “Stay away from Lorna. She’s bad news.”

“Yeah, I guess she is.”

“There’s no guessing about it. If this was a little bit worse, you could’ve ended up in hospital.”

Apart from Mickey, Stix, crusty-lips and close-eyes, I don’t know anyone else in Sydney except Lorna. She’s the one I’ve spent most time with. I’ll be lonely without her. Like me, she’s been a hooker. She also had a termination, and she’s had a violent ex-boyfriend. We had stuff in common. She was someone I could talk to. And aside from all that, I’ll have one less connection who can score here.

“Right, that’s you all done.” Mickey climbs off my back and lies down next to me.

“How’s your grandma?” I ask, slipping on my nightdress.

“Looks like she’s going to be okay. She’s out of the coma. My dad’s still there, but.”

So I didn’t dream what I thought he said about his grandma. I wonder if his mother is actually blind. That’s not the kind of thing I can just throw into conversation though.

“I need to get some decent shut-eye tonight. I’ll try not to wake you when I leave.” Mickey flicks the light switches above the bedside table.

I can’t see a thing. We’re in complete darkness. I’m hoping I manage to get some sleep myself. Sharing my bed isn’t something I’m used to. In the dark, it’s worse. I can think it’s another man instead of Mickey lying next to me in this bed. It would better if I could see him. I need to see his face. I turn on the light above the bedside table to the dimmest setting. “Do you mind?” I whisper. “I need a light on.”

“It’s okay, beautiful.” He breathes on my neck.

When he drove me back here and I invited him in, he said there was no expectation of us having sex. He said he was fine with waiting as long as I needed to wait. I felt comfortable with that. It was okay when he was massaging me. I felt relaxed and kind of sleepy. But now he’s lying so close to me in my bed, and feeling his breath on my skin, I’m on edge and more awake. The intensity of how I feel isn’t as powerful as the last time he slept here. But I don’t think I can sleep. I’m a guard on patrol.

Uncovered Lies – 28 December 2000 – 9.45PM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

I’ve been shooting up in Stix’s house in Elanora Heights for the last couple of hours. Me, Stix, crusty-lips and close-eyes are in the lounge. I managed to get a seat to myself on the red leather armchair. It’s a better buzz here on this chair. I hate their bodies touching mine when I’m squashed between them on the sofa.

My sunburnt skin’s looking even worse than it did earlier. Stix’s mum gave me aloe vera gel when we got here. I pick up the bottle from the side of my chair and apply another coat to my face, arms, legs and chest. I’ll have to do my stomach and my thighs when I get back to the hotel.

I’m sure I’ll have missed Lorna now. She won’t be pissed off with me, because she’ll take my share of the heroin. I won’t be pissed off with her, because that’s what I expect. It’s annoying that I’ll have paid twice though. I’ve given Stix a couple of hundred so I’ve got my own stash. I prefer making up my own hits here, and I also wanted to have some to take back to my hotel later.

Crusty-lips passes me a joint. I really need to find out his name and the name of close-eyes too. I’m not feeling as drunk as I was before. I shared the rest of my vodka and coke with the others. They’ve opened some beers but I’ve not drunk anymore. I think I’ve learnt my lesson from the two times I’ve blacked out since I’ve been in Sydney.

Stix’s mum, in her rollers and wearing her pink dress that looks like a negligee, opens the lounge door. “Mickey’s here,” she says.

I want to sink into the armchair. I don’t want him seeing me looking like a bloody lobster. And he’s probably going to be furious with me, or upset, that I didn’t show up to meet him last night – if that’s what the arrangement was. He walks into the room. He’s wearing a royal blue, floral patterned shirt. That must’ve been him outside the cafe this morning.

He kisses me on the cheek. “Up ya get.”

I stand up. He sits on the armchair. He pulls me onto his lap. It feels strange. This is what boyfriends and girlfriends do, I think. I’m used to punters who just want to fuck. This is something different. This is being close. And close in front of other people. This isn’t an act.

“I’m sorry about last night. We were meant to meet, weren’t we?” I say quietly.

“You get a better offer?” He smiles.

“Not really. Not at all.” I pass him the joint. “I saw Lorna and we–”

“Lorna, I might’ve known she’d be involved.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told her yesterday I was seeing you last night. What did she do? Tell you more stories about me?”

“No, she didn’t actually. She was nice.”

“I’ll bet.” He takes a pull on the spliff. “You need to be careful with your skin. The sun’s a killer here.”

“That’s Lorna’s bloody fault. She let me fall asleep in the midday sun…for the whole damn day.”

“You’re lucky that’s all she did.”

Of course, she left me asleep. I told her I was meant to be seeing a punter last night. She knew all along I was lying, that it was Mickey I’d arranged to meet. She let me burn to punish me. And I bet that’s why she took me to Kings Cross. She didn’t want to give me my fifty dollars back. She wanted to keep me away from him.

Intent – 27 December 2000 – 6.15AM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

I run my fingers through Mickey’s short brown hair. It doesn’t wake him. I’ve been doing it intermittently for the last couple of hours while I’ve been watching him sleep. He looks like a roman statue with his straight nose, sharp jaw line, and his toned body. It’s not strange that I find it easier to touch him when he doesn’t know I’m doing it. There’s no danger of a response.

In my head, I’d love to be his girlfriend. He’s completely different from every man I’ve ever known. No man before him has treated me with the consideration and compassion he’s shown. Lorna must have been lying or exaggerating when she said he was dangerous. He doesn’t seem dangerous to me. But even if she did make it up and he is genuine, I don’t do relationships. Working as a call girl, it doesn’t go with the job. And even though I’m not working at the moment, fear explodes in my stomach at the thought of being with a man in that way. Men aren’t to be trusted. They all cheat and lie.

I couldn’t bring myself to trust the last boyfriend I had a few years ago. There was something blocking it. I think it was my intuition, but I didn’t trust that either. I didn’t realise how damaging the relationship with Pete was until I got completely honest with Dr Fielding about what was really going on. He was violent but I didn’t think it was that bad. He never actually left a mark. Well once, he did on the top of my arm, but I’d made him angry. I accused him of being with another woman. When we split up, I found out that he was in fact sleeping with her. I was right all along but he’d made me think it was all in my head – my insecurities because I was a hooker, because my father left us, because I’d been abused. When I used to have flashbacks during sex, he’d get angry and shout at me, “If you can do it with your punters, you can do it with me.” I felt I had to perform. I used to fuck him like I’d fuck a client. I hated it. Every time we had sex, I felt unclean and used, like I’d done a job and not been paid. I started sleeping on the sofa in the lounge to avoid being in bed with him. Maybe that’s why he was sleeping with the other girl. After he’d gone, when my annual statement arrived from the Nationwide, I discovered he’d withdrawn thousands from my savings account. There was nothing I could do. He knew I couldn’t go to the police. Money’s the reason men want to be with a call girl. Like Angel said, if a man really loves you, he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men.

Mickey’s snoring again. I don’t bother telling him to stop. I can’t sleep with the constant stream of thoughts. I return to stroking his hair. He’s a beautiful man. He’s far more handsome than Pete. He’s a lovely distraction. Rather than going over my past with Pete, I imagine the future with Mickey. I picture us walking hand-in-hand in a park, along the shoreline, on the promenade of Manly Beach. In a gothic church, I’m walking down the aisle. I’m standing next to him at the altar. I lift my veil and meet his lightest of light blue eyes with mine.

I shouldn’t let myself dream like this. Although he doesn’t know I’m a call girl, he does think I have a large inheritance. He could be with me for my money. He has been paying his share for the smack so far, and that’s a good sign, but it has only been a couple of days. I’ll need to see if he keeps it up. Not that I think I could get attached, but if I could get attached to a man, he’d be the one.