Chapter 11: The Price

The hotel bar on the Place Bellecour had low lamps, red leather chairs and a pianist who played to nobody.

I walked in at ten on Saturday night in a tight black dress, high heels and a coat I left at the door.

My red lipstick was too bright.

My scarf hid the pink mark under my chin.

Auguste had given me the rules by text that afternoon.

You are working. You don't know me. You talk to men until one pays. Don't take less than two hundred.

I sat at the end of the bar and ordered a glass of white wine with a hand that shook.

At the far corner of the room, in a deep armchair with a newspaper, sat Dominique.

He did not look at me.

Auguste had told him, because the rule about no secrets still held between the two of them.

Léon had broken it, so Léon didn't know where I was.

The thought gave me a small mean thrill.

A man in a grey suit sat down two stools away.

He had a wedding ring and a tired face.

"Good evening," he said.

"Good evening."

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"For you," I said. "If you're generous."

His eyebrows rose.

I had practiced the line in the mirror, and I still felt my face burn as I said it.

"How generous?" he asked.

"Three hundred. All night."

"I don't think so."

"Then goodnight."

I turned my face away and he laughed.

"Two," he said.

"Three. Or I find someone who thinks I'm worth it."

He thought about it.

Then he shrugged, finished his drink and stood.

And a hand fell on his shoulder.

"I'll take it from here," said Auguste.

He had come out of the corridor beside the bar with his coat over his arm.

The man in the grey suit stared at him, then at me, then picked up his hat and left.

"That was a client," I said.

"That was a husband," said Auguste. "A bad one. Sit."

I sat.

He took the stool beside me and signaled for a whisky.

Keep reading free with an account. Start Her First Time, Their Power Game from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.