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The young man took off his coat and folded it carefullyacross the bed. He sat down in the armchair and placed the leather bag at his feet. His hair was short and shone like silver where it caught the light. He turned suddenly towards the door behind him and squinted at the keyhole, jerking his head as if listening for some faraway sound.
She took a step towards him, hesitated, glanced across his shoulder at the door. “That’s my own private room, Billy,” she said forcing another smile. “Would you like a drink?”
He frowned. “Is it empty?” he whispered.
“Yes, of course it’s empty,” she said with a laugh.
“This is the room where I entertain. Don’t worry, Billy, we’re quite alone. Be brave and have a drink.”
“Yes, thank you,” he said.
“Scotch?”
“Fine.”
She turned to a cabinet beside the bed. He was young and frightened. He looked as if he might faint if she touched him. Old men made difficult customers – they were always trying to smell your shoes or peer at your bum through a keyhole. They were unpredictable. But the young men, ah, they were quickly satisfied. They had no imagination. She stifled a yawn as she poured the Scotch. “I haven’t seen you before,” she said.
“No.”
“Is this your first time?”
She punched it several times with her fist and threw it aside. She glanced at her watch. It was a little past ten-thirty and she had opened for business at noon. It had been a long and difficult day and it wasn’t finished. She bent to the low metal table and plucked at one of the limp roses. The flower exploded between her fingers. She swore and searched for a cigarette, when the doorbell rang.
She walked to the door and drew back a chain. When she opened the door she found a young man in a heavy winter coat, clutching a leather bag in his hands, standing among the shadows. For some moments she stood and stared at him in silence. And then, with a little movement of her head, she beckoned him into her room.
“What shall I call you?” she asked as she turned to confront him.
“My name is William.”
“That’s nice. I’ll call you Billy.”
The man said nothing. He looked around the room. He was wearing a pair of heavy spectacles and he screwed up his eyes as he tried to peer through the smeared glass.
“Don’t look so scared, Billy. I’m not going to eat you,” chirruped Tulip. She began to laugh. She threw back her head and bared her teeth. But the man looked puzzled. When she saw that he was not amused she tried to compose herself, lit a cigarette, gave it several brief tugs and snorted smoke through her nose.
“Why don’t you sit down, Billy, and take off your coat?”
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