Swap With Me

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT 

Scott walked into the shabby office and presented his driver's licence. The state of the office reflected the look of the crumpled clothes worn by Scott.

'I've come to collect my car.' He was at the compound where they brought cars that had been illegally parked. 

'That will be £250 please. Credit card?'

Scott was shocked at the cost but knew it was useless to argue. He gave the registration number of his car. The man behind the counter looked Scott up and down as if to say you look a wreck, but actually said, 'you the owner of the Porsche?'

After showing his key, Scott went out to collect his car. He realised he must look odd, wearing badly creased trousers, a shirt in need of an iron and a jumper that had shrunk in Emily's drying machine. 

Before he left Emily, they had agreed a date tomorrow for Sunday lunch. His breakfast with her had been a trial of holding back his urge to make love to Emily. Every time he got up from the small round table, he became aware that the towel round his waist didn't quite cover everything. Emily must have noticed the bulge. Although she looked sexy in a pj top and panties, Scott could see Emily was tired and needed to get herself ready for the day. He had washed up the breakfast plates, put on his slightly damp clothes and left to pick up his car.

It wasn't long before Scott was back at his modern flat at Butler's Wharf.

-O-

Emily took the quiche out of the oven and put it on the table next to the salad bowl. Jessica got the wine poured.

'We're both in a right mess,' said Jess, as she lifted her glass. 'Cheers.'

They had been talking about their jobs. Jess was self-employed and no more modelling shoots were booked by her agent. And Emily would not get a good reference from her previous employer, because of the Asian porn scam, so her prospects of getting another salaried job were slim.

'I have a bloody great mortgage on this flat,' said Emily, 'and if I don't pay, they'll repossess.'

'Me too. And council rates, credit card bills, mobile phone account, . . .'

'Wow, Jess, stop. This is depressing.' But Jessica was right. In about a month, the late payments and debts would impact onto each of their credit ratings. Emily knew all about this; all her credit history was logged onto two main computer systems, Experian and Equifax. Any delays of payment, or missed debts, part defaults, together with up-to-date credit are installed automatically on these computers. For everybody. Which means if you have a bad profile, your chances of getting credit are zero.

'There's only one thing for me to do, Em.' She sighed and looked resigned. 'I'm going to become an escort.'

'You're WHAT?' Emily was shocked. 'Escort? That means . . .'

'It means I escort men to where ever they want to go, restaurants, gigs, events . . .'

'And bed.' 

'Yes. I would get paid to f*ck. £200 to £300 for an hour.' Her twisted mouth hid nothing from Emily.

Emily could see her best friend was just about to break down. Jessica. Her bravado tried to hide the anguish, the pain of taking this step, the feeling of being backed into a corner. 

'Get a normal job,' cried Emily. 'Go to an employment agency. At least you would have a reference, unlike me.'

'I'm not qualified to do anything. Can't type. I can do reception work, but it's not going to pay my mortgage, loans and bills.' Jessica took some salad and helped herself to a piece of quiche.