Whitechapel

(So as I was looking through some of my old computer files the other day, I came across this little gem that I had almost forgotten I'd written as a potential piece of A Level coursework. I won't really say much about it for want of keeping the plot a secret, however I just remember it being immensely fun to write and the character of Nicole a particularly interesting one that maybe one day I'd like to explore further. Enjoy!!) 

Nothing stirred in the desolate Whitechapel street. Everything was still: even the clouds overhead hung stationary, hiding the silvery wisp of a full moon. It took a moment for the door of the last house on the end to be wretched open, but as it did so there was a noise of satisfaction from inside, and then from there emerged a shiny patent black stiletto heel. Nicole her name was, and she smiled a devious smile as she stepped down onto the pavement. She tucked the small wad of dirty bank notes into her bra, hoisting the straps that she had so carelessly let fall down up onto her delicate shoulders.

He had been about twenty years her senior. The house from which she had just emerged was a tiny grubby pigsty, and had smelt of sweat and cannabis. She scowled to herself as she remembered how he had lain there and expected… her. But despite his squalid living conditions, the man was not poor, and Nicole had left the bedroom with one of the highest takings she had had this month, now ever so carefully stashed safely in her silken red bra. And he was as she liked to think… finished with, for the time being.

A slight gust of wind whipped itself around her, and she shivered violently as it almost forced her black trademark miniskirt up. One of the down sides of this ‘job’ she mused, was that the clothing was made of so little material, and she almost wished for just one time when a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie were acceptable attire. Unfortunately, this day would never arise: men these days were so materialistic. Of course, her life had not always been like this; she had left school with A levels – admittedly, not the best results, but still she thought, anything was better than nothing – and had begun to work. However a blurred downward spiral involving drugs and the repossession of her flat had led her… here.

She rounded the familiar corner that would lead her to the tiny flat in which she had to share with the three other girls… slags. She hated all of them. There was the short sound of shuffling feet behind, followed by a lengthy pause. Nicole turned, expecting to see one of the typical sort – either a lone women attired in similar clothes to her own, or a gang of unruly teens. Despite their typical portrayal as being yobs and hooligans, there was a mutual respect between the gangs of Soho and the ladies that wandered the streets at night.

He was wearing a pair of loose fitting trousers, paired oddly with a ragged dinner jacket rolled up at the sleeves. Underneath was a knitted jumper and he had a tartan scarf untied around his neck. To her, he looked like one of the tramps that she usually saw lying on a bench in tube stations. As he caught her eye she felt a slight sense of unease, and turned away quickly, continuing to totter down the road.

“Hold up, lady.” His voice was a strong and rich tenor – which strongly contrasted his exterior appearance. Nicole turned around, slightly hesitant in her action. She was aware of the type of people that loitered around this area at night time – she had a strict rule of thumb that she only made house calls – she may be in one of the lowest forms of employment; however she was a fraction more sophisticated than to be picked up from the corner of a street. He caught up with her to stand next to her. He was taller than her, even in her high heels.

“You on your way somewhere?” He mused.

“I’m just finished for the night, actually.” Nicole replied, scouting the street for any other signs of life. He looked into her eyes, raising his eyebrows.

“You fancy coming back to mine then?” The sleazy pick up line that she’d heard so many times before exasperated her. He winked at her in a distasteful way.

“I’m sorry, you’ve caught me just as I’m on my way back home.” Politeness was the key. Always be polite, that’s what she’d learned over the last two years. His face fell at her words, but brightened again as he reached into the only remaining pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to her without a word, and when she stared at it, he nodded to it in apprehension. Nicole twisted the envelope in her fingers and gently eased it open. As she stared down into its contents, she counted twenty, no, maybe even thirty twenty pound notes. The man reached out and took it off her – easy, as she was in a state of shock at the sight of it.

“So, I’m gonna ask you again, darlin’. Do you fancy coming back to mine tonight?” Nicole stared down at the envelope in disbelief: its contents were well over a weeks usual takings. She took in his scruffy appearance, then, almost as if shaking her head from a trance, nodded. He smiled, mouth opening to reveal a missing front tooth.

“It’s right this way.”

Nicole begun to walk, and his pace matched hers – after they crossed the first road, he slipped his arm into hers. She did not protest, and complied, all the while thinking how many hits she could buy with the kind of money he was offering her tonight. She followed him in silence, round this way and that, until finally, at the end of another dingy street lit by a solitary street lamp, he stopped.

“Welcome to paradise.” He exclaimed. He pulled her up the front step, and into the house. It was a little rough, and she felt the heel of her left shoe snap off under the pressure. She pulled away from his grasp just as he slammed the door shut behind her. He locked it – not an unusual thing for people from these parts to be so protective. It was at this point that the stench hit her, and she gagged. It was like nothing she had ever imagined or experienced before – the rotting of meat crossed with the lingering smell of public toilets. The man however seemed unfazed by it, and winked at her in the darkness. He had already removed his top half of clothing, and was standing leaning against the wall in anticipation. Nicole shivered internally.

“How about we take this… downstairs.” The man purred in a low voice. Nicole smiled, slipping ever so easily into the role that she always assumed – her mind elsewhere as she did what she had to do.

“Whatever you require…” She said in a sultry low voice. She strode over to him, and caressed his bare shoulder in the darkness. He led her in the dim light towards a small door underneath the stairs which she assumed led to the cellar. All the way, she stroked his naked chest, trying to ignore the smell which was becoming more and more oppressing the closer they got. By the time they reached the door, he was kissing her shoulders, and she let her shirt fall carelessly abandoned to the floor. He fumbled with the lock, his fingers slipping off the key. When he had finally got it open, Nicole smiled at him, and broke apart from him.

“It sure looks dark.” She purred. “I wonder what you’ve got down there.”

He smiled at her, a slight flicker of something more than lust crossing his face. She winked at him, her face as beautiful as a vixen streaking through the forest in the moonlight. He motioned to her, but she stopped him, and placed a slim hand on his shoulders, circling him.

“You first.”

He exhaled and placed his first foot on the top step of the rough stone staircase. At that moment, the atmosphere distorted around the pair, and Nicole took a step back. In a heartbeat, she lunged at him: not in the more sexual way that the man was used to, but in a violent fashion, knocking him down to the floor, and down, down again.

She watched his sluggish silhouette fade out into the darkness. There was a final ‘thud’ as the man juddered to an uneasy stop at the end of the stairs. All was silent. In the near darkness of the night, Nicole smiled again to herself: turned and pushed the door closed behind him. They wouldn’t notice the smell: it was foul enough before. She placed the envelope of cash he had left out on the side into the other side of her bra, stepped over the doorstep, and left, like nothing of any great excitement had ever happened there.