JESSICA...

At nine minutes before eleven P.M., I rang the bell at no ** Windermere Lodge, Hornsey Lane, Highgate. At five minutes past eleven, Jessica stepped into
view, her hips swinging in time with her breasts. She was a real looker. A beguiling 5ft 10in confection of honey-blonde hair, limpid blue eyes, baby-doll
face, snake hips, and the contemptuous posture of a woman who found herself consistently in demand. Extreme desirability had a lot to do with it. She could
get anyone she damn well pleased. Okay, we’re looking at a rock’n raver - an open vintage Ocelot jacket, a tiny black mini-skirt, the smallest of black lace see-through bustiers, 18in upper thigh circumference (above the thigh you’re on
your own), silk-stockings and, of course, four-and-a-half-inch fuck-me stilettos.

‘I was going to wear something revealing,’ she confided to me. ‘Those little see-through hot pants from Agent Provocateur, but how can I without
looking like a load of soft porn. I mean, I don’t want to seem like a pushover.’
'Little late in the day,' I thought.
Zinc lips, bright eyes, faux-tanned skin. I always thought looking the
height of seasonal glamour tended to be part of the retail deal. I couldn’t
picture her doing anything for sex if she had to wear plain clothes and no
lipstick, but was beginning to wonder what superbly outrageous homage to
tinsel-glamour I myself had paid. Thank heavens for beautiful women. ‘You don’t
have to be a pushover,’ I said. ‘You can be sexy and still have class.’

‘It’s impossible for me to be cool, stylish and fashionable, and not
look like every man’s favourite fantasy. Sometimes I feel like the biggest C in
town,’ she said, ‘rather like a West-End production, with everybody wanting a
part in it.’ She sighed, ‘so, you know, you get laid a lot.’ She recognized, she
explained, the role of the penis, but professed to be unsure whether male and
female libidos were not altogether mismatched. Whether or not was open to
question, she said expansively, milking the pregnant pause, ‘but for every man
you jerk off, there’s two dozen priming their barrels. Unless, of course, they
already have their dicks up each other’s ass.’
‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised,’ I said. I must confess, though, I was inclined to think that she’d
been putting it a little strongly.

‘Sometimes I wish they would put their
penises away and do something useful. I’m sick and tired of ending up with a
dick in my mouth every time I leave the house.’ She took out her compact and
looked into the mirror. ‘All men are potential rapists, you know.’

‘No kidding?’ I said, groping for an answer. ‘That’s a serious
allegation.’

‘But it’s the women who make them so. Let’s face it,’ she elaborated with a throatiness in her voice that made my lips tingle. ‘A woman’s vagina is an amalgam of chemistry and biology, of taste and flavour that deter and attract
simultaneously. Its various aromas, scents and biological reverberations are very cunning and entirely irresistible.’

I felt myself reddening. The phrase reeked of cunnilingus. ‘It motivates men more than anything else in the world,’ I said, somewhat flustered. ‘It appeals to suckers like mangos to flies.’ She threw me a disdainful
look. ‘Just think about it.’

‘Thinking about little else,’ I said, starting the engine.

(Jessica was no mere prostitute down on her luck. She was a child of
progress. This was a woman who might go down into dirt, but whoring for her was
an informed career choice. The toughest part of the blessed thing was that while
Jessica was getting tied up, spanked or sodomized indoors, I would be waiting
outside, sitting in my cab...)