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‘Hi, Tim.’
I stood awkwardly in the corridor as I pulled my key out of my bag.
‘Lovely evening for ducks.’
He was only my age as far as I could tell, mid twenties maximum, but he spoke like he was seventy.
I smiled tightly. ‘Sure is. Tipping it down out there.’
‘Good for the grass.’ He chuckled to himself while keeping his eyes fixed on me.
‘Yeah,’ I replied, toying with the key in my hand as I glanced at my door. We didn’t even have grass. My flat was in Glasgow city centre and entirely surrounded by pavement. ‘I should go get some dinner. Lara will be waiting.’
He went back to spraying his plants with the tiny spritz bottle with a nod. ‘I’ll be seeing you.’
Such a freaking weird guy. Nice enough, but talking to him always made me second guess myself.
Letting myself into my flat, I breathed a sigh of relief when I latched the door behind me before hanging up my wet coat and taking off my shoes. Flexing my sore feet against the cold tile was glorious.
‘Hey, it’s just me,’ I called out as I made my way through the spacious flat and into the kitchen, taking a peek into the slow cooker which stood bubbling on the counter. My mother would call it a crime to cook lasagne in there, but it was bloody delicious and ready when I walked in the door. Who can argue with that?
Moments later, Lara popped her head out of her room and grinned. ‘Welcome home. Was your little love waiting outside for you?’
‘Ugh, don’t call him that.’
‘It’s true though, he practically has those big cartoon heart eyes for you.’
‘Shut up.’ I nudged her as she walked into the kitchen area, grabbing two glasses and topping them up with a crisp white wine. She put them on the coffee table as I served up the lasagne and sat next to her on the sofa.
It should have been weird that she wore a nurse’s outfit, but after living together for two years, and both of us camming from home, there was little we hadn’t seen - or heard - from one another. Just another part of the job.
‘How’s it going tonight? Busy?’ I asked between mouthfuls of food as Lara flicked on a reality show she loved. It wasn’t my thing, but I could appreciate the toned, buff men and women who loitered around in bikinis.
‘Surprisingly busy. You should hop on for a bit after dinner.’
‘With my pasta belly? No one wants to see that.’
We looked at each other before laughing. We both knew that the guys rarely gave a darn about a bit of bloat as long as you said the right things and flashed some skin.
‘Do you want to tag-team tonight?’ Lara asked.
Occasionally we’d team up to get the punters ravenous. It always brought out a few big tippers. But what I actually wanted to do was curl up in bed and finish the scarf I was knitting.
‘Not that I don’t love you, but I think I’ll just pop on for a quick half an hour until I hit my evening goal and then bow out. I don’t think I have the energy for more excitement than that tonight.’
‘You just hate my vagina. It’s okay. I won’t take it personally.’ Lara’s face pulled into a mock cry as I laughed.
‘It’s as good a vagina as I ever met,’ I said with a wink.
‘I know you just prefer a big slice of man meat. How can a girl compete with that?’
‘You’re pretty partial to the special sausage yourself, if I remember correctly.’ I raised my eyebrows before waggling them at her.
‘It is pretty addictive.’
‘Truth,’ I agreed, taking a sip of my wine before finishing my food while watching the hotties fumble under a duvet on the TV.
My laptop hummed to life as I sat on my bed in a pink, frilled lingerie set. I’d pulled my dark hair back over one shoulder and put on a full face of makeup, loving going all out even if it was only for a short time. I swore half of my income went on makeup while the other half went on pretty clothes. Well, the amount I allowed myself as spending money, anyway. Growing up with little while related to incredibly wealthy people had left me with a fierce need to have a nest egg. Money was power, and I didn’t want to need help from anyone financially. My family’s money came with chains, and I wasn’t for being tied down. Not like that, at least.
