Entertaining at Large Ch. 01

'Yeah. The landlord keeps his hands to himself and the punters keep their mitts off your tits when you go round with the glass.'

'The glass?'

She looked me up and down with a critical eye.

'You go round with a pint pot when you've finished to get the punters to cough up tips. Bit embarrassing at first, but you'll get used to it. Most of them just touch your arse. George makes sure things don't get out of hand.'

'Oh, I'm not a performer. Just asking for my friend.'

'Thought I hadn't seen you on the circuit. You should try it. If your boyfriend's OK with it. Makes them randy as hell.'

She smiled at me and, after an OK from George, went back to the game.

'So that's agreed then. Friday night, two strips, fifty quid plus tips and I guarantee you won't have to buy your own beer all night.'

'I haven't agreed to anything George. But tell me, do you get many women in here?'

He hesitated.

'Some. A couple of lesbians almost always show up, a few of the women from the factories, one bloke brings his wife, funny couple; and, those young 'uns have always got lasses hanging around. That's how Tracy started. Why? Want to make sure of a bit of "feminine solidarity".'

His tone left no doubt about the existence of inverted commas. I just couldn't work out whether he was making fun of me, or not.

'Don't worry, your mates will keep an eye out for you and, like Tracy said, I don't allow any funny business.'

'Well, I might come down, I suppose. I don't want that lot dragging Mr J round the local night clubs afterwards.'

I changed to a sterner voice.

'But these knickers are definitely staying on, so you can forget it.'

'Always look on the bright side, that's my motto. If you don't have hope what's the point of life?'

'How many come in on a Friday?'

'About fifty on a poor night; be closer to a hundred on Friday, what with Xmas coming up and everything.'

He moved away to serve one of the older men in overalls who had been patiently waiting.

'Be even more than that if I put the word out you're making your debut.'

He winked at me and I smiled at him before going over to the lads to berate them for letting me down with their abysmal shooting. I was sure I heard George's customer say "great arse" as I turned. I put an extra wiggle in my walk. Couldn't hurt any to thank a man for the compliment, I reasoned.

Mr J was suitably delighted when I told him. It was like dealing with a giddy teenager going out to a first party. What should I wear? Will there be many there? What are your friends like? I invited him in again; just coffee this time, and we agreed he'd be ready by seven o'clock the next evening.

I was in two minds already as to whether to go or not. The boys had been mock-affronted at my consistent refusal. If I was going to be one of the lads, they reasoned, this would be some sort of rite-of-passage. After a couple of pints I sort-of saw their point. Mr J didn't put direct pressure on me. But he was clearly nervous about going out with strangers and, again, I could empathise.

I left him to his preparations and decided to put off my decision until the next day. It's nice to be nice, I'll grant you, but what was in it for me? Did I really want to spend my Friday evening in a pub full off men watching Tracy? After all, I could stay home and curse the television schedulers for their tragic lack of imagination. Every girl's dream evening.

Continued