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.

Using People – 27 December 2000 – 2.40PM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

I’m sitting on a rock. It’s not comfortable but the sound of the waves crashing close to me makes me feel more alive and I love my feet dipped into the sea while the sun warms my skin. It’s a hot day, really hot. Although the sun on my body feels good on the outside, the heat makes me feel colder inside.

Mickey left the hotel sometime this morning. I don’t know when. I didn’t look at my watch. I was half-asleep in bed. I don’t think I fell asleep until after 8AM. That was when I last remember seeing the time. He said something about taking his mother shopping. I think he said she was blind but I’m not sure if I dreamt that part. I also think he said that his father usually takes her but he’s flown out to Perth as his mother is ill. I’m not actually sure how much of what I think he said he did in fact say, and how much was my dream. I’m hoping that I didn’t dream he said he was coming back tonight. I feel stupid for feeling it, but I miss him. I want a fix as well, and he might have gear with him.

My bony arse is aching from perching on the rock. I slither down into the sea then wade to the shore. Back on the sand, I lie down on my Betty Boop towel. I close my eyes and think of Mickey. He’s taking over my thoughts. I guess it’s all right though. It makes a change from the bad memories and images that usually play.

“All alone, Nicole. Mickey not with you?” I recognise Lorna’s voice.

I open my eyes and look up at her. “You’re looking better. What happened to you last night?”

Lorna plonks herself down on the sand next to me. Her hair isn’t wild today. It’s neatly pulled back in a ponytail. And she’s not wearing ripped clothes. She’s in a tiny, fluorescent green bikini – a terrible colour on anyone. “I had a fight with some loud mouth bitches. You should see the state of them though. Knocked two teeth out of one of those cunts.”

“And ruined my dress. Don’t ask to borrow my clothes again. They’re all designer. They’re not cheap and they’re not made for fighting.”

“Budge over.” Lorna nudges me with her backside, imposing on my small towel. She lays down next me. Although we’re both anorexically thin, there isn’t room for two on this towel. I’ve got one leg and one arm in the sand. Her body, sticky with sweat, is making my body damp too. “You got a smoke?” she asks.

I take two cigarettes from my packet and rest them both between my lips. I light them then pass one to her. I dig in my handbag for my watch. I never wear it; time drags when I do. Discretely, I check how much longer it is until seven o’clock – the time I think Mickey’s meeting me at the Radisson. I’ve got a little over three hours to get rid of Lorna. I don’t want her knowing I’m seeing him tonight. She’ll only try to stop me. Or if she doesn’t do that, she’ll be wanting to hang out with us. I want it to be just me and him. The pair of them don’t seem to get on with each other anyway. But even if they did, I’d still want him to myself.

“I’m going to the Cross soon. You wanna come?”

“Not today, thanks.” That’s a relief. I won’t need to make up an excuse to get rid of her.

“I’m getting my poison off this guy who owes me. He’ll have your fifty dollars for you too.”

I don’t need the fifty but I do need a fix. I haven’t had one in about twelve hours. “What time will we be back here?”

“Dunno, depends when we head off.” Lorna buries her cigarette butt in the sand. She rolls sideways off the towel then stands up. She walks away towards the sea.

I’m glad to have my towel back to myself. I change position and direction. I lie on my stomach with my head facing the ocean. Lorna’s up to her waist in the sea, talking to a group of male surfers. I hope she hurries up. We’ll need to leave soon. We have to get to Kings Cross, have a hit, get back here, and I need to have gotten rid of her, all in three hours.

Maybe it’s too tight. I’m always late but I don’t want to be late for Mickey. Part of me wants to wait for him. I’d rather see him and have my hit in his company. I prefer being with him than with Lorna. But I’m craving a fix now. Three hours is a long time to hold out. Of course, I understand he has to take his mother shopping and I’m sad his grandma’s ill, but I wish he wasn’t coming back for me so late. That’s if I’ve even remembered rightly that he is coming back. And if he is, he might not have any smack on him. We might have to drive somewhere to score. It could be four or five or six hours until I have a fix. And what if that whole conversation with him was a dream? I’m probably best to go with Lorna.