I decided to do some research on the requirements for hygiene and the avoidance of any unwanted health implications. Having perused various sites, it became clear that hygiene was as important, if not more so, to the girls themselves. Nearly every profile included a requirement for the client to shower immediately upon entering the setting for the appointment. I assumed it would be good policy to only visit girls with this proviso in place, upfront and highlighted, on their profile pages.
Dental hygiene was also high on the list and this would have been a concern of mine. I visited many sites offering information on good dental hygiene and ways to improve it. I had always been conscious of periodic check ups at the dentist and had been using an antiseptic and antibacterial mouthwash for several years. Irish Rose’s website actually alluded to the clients breath being minty fresh and mine usually was. With all of this in mind, I put a kit together that included everything I’d need for showering remotely. Although several of the sites mentioned that they provided products for showering, I thought it best to get the items that I was used to.
Following a meeting at the offices of NSK Energy, where it was decided that I would be required to increase my workload and also consider expanding my network countrywide, I decided to withdraw my services. On my way home from the meeting, the phone rang in my car. It was Noel Gallagher, my contact in NSK.
“Billy, you’re an awful man, what’s the read?”
I decided to be a little bastard.
“Who’s speaking please?”
“It’s me, Noel,” he said, then added, “Gallagher.”
“Ah, Noel,” I said, “are you still not talking to Liam? You two need to cop on.”
“Yeah. Fuck off.”
“What’s wrong with you, Noel?”
“Did you just jack, in there?”
“I suppose I did.”
“But, what the fuck, Billy?”
“Noel, my agreement with them, initially, was to only work in Dublin north and to do no more than five jobs per week,” I said, “that changed to include the rest of Dublin and then ten jobs a week.”
“I know, but you never complained about it.”
“I didn’t complain because I still only did the five jobs. I left anything that was not on the Northside alone. They just didn’t notice.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“For fuck’s sake, Noel, you were in the meeting.”
“So you pull your ticket? Just like that?”
“Yes, they’re a shower of cunts anyway.”
“I know that, but what’ll you do now?”
“I’ll take a few days to consider a few things. I’ve had a couple of interesting offers, I might jump on one of them.”
“Well they asked me to get you to reconsider.”
“Tell them I had my phone switched off.”
What I didn’t tell Noel was that I had recently committed to work with a company that were piloting a deep retro-fit insulation program for one of the larger local government Social Housing bodies in Dublin.
This work was based totally on the Northside of the city and each job paid twenty five percent more. Also, because it was being funded by the European government, every job had to be done twice; once before works commenced, and once after works were completed.
The houses were less than half the size of the ones that NSK did and there were no other extraneous audits or backup survey work involved either. The deciding factor for me was that the scheme was monitored and managed by a good friend of mine, Richard Davis, or Ritchie D, as he was known to his friends.
Ritchie was fifty five and had taken advantage of a decent early retirement package from the Local Government housing department to get out and do some real work. He was a decent enough chap. He had a good humoured way about him, but he wouldn’t think twice about telling you to fuck off if it was warranted.
He knew about the meeting in NSK and was convinced that I wouldn’t leave them. I knew differently. I was a private contractor and was not beholden to them in the same way as I would be if I were a direct employee. So it didn’t surprise me that my phone rang with a call from him.
“Ritchie D,” I said, “what’s the craic?”
“What time is your meeting, Billy?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“That was fast.”
“In certain instances, speed is not all that highly appreciated,” I said, “especially by women.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“Says the man who thinks a one minute fuck is a wasted thirty seconds of talking time.”
“That’s purely by choice,” he laughed, “why waste thirty seconds having an in-depth conversation about her emotions?”
“Longevity isn’t your strong point, I take it.”
“If one was really interested in dragging it out, there’s nothing to stop one having a couple of quick shots at the shooting range beforehand.”
“True, but what if one only had one shot in one’s gun to begin with?”
“Speaking of taking a shot,” he said, “did you take one at NSK?”
“Yep! It’s done.”
“How did they take it?”
“I don’t know, but Noel wasn’t a happy camper.”
“Ah well, into every life a little rain must fall,” he said, “what’s your plan?”
“I’m going home to finish up a few surveys and then I’m a free man.”
“Are you available to do some work?”
“Yes, what have you got?”
“I’ve a few voids I need you to do for DCO.”
“What’s a void?” I asked.
“They’re empty units that have been upgraded.”
“Before and after?”
“Pres and Posts. Yes, where they’re needed only.”
“Same rates?”
“Yep.”
“Are you under the gun to start them?”
“I’ll email you twenty addresses, can you start a few of them tomorrow for me?”
“What are they?”
“Flats and apartments.”
“When do you need them?”
“What time is it now?”
“Gotcha. How do I get in to them?”
“I’ll drop the keys in your door tonight.”
“Sounds good, where are they?”
“Ten in Kilbarrack and ten in Ballymun.”
“Grand. I’ll need account numbers too.”
“All in the email.”
“Jesus, Ritchie, it’s not like you to be well organised.”
“That’ll change soon enough,” he said.
“If I can get the keys today, I can do a few after lunch,” I said.
“I’ll be in the house for a while if you want to swing by and collect them,” he offered, “what’s the hurry?”
“I’m going to Belfast on Tuesday for the Energy Show. I’d like to get them sorted by then.”
“The fucking Energy Show. I get tired just thinking about it,” he said, “if I’m not here, I’ll leave the keys in the green bin nearest the door.”
I drove to his house, collected the keys from the green bin and went directly over to Sillogue Green in Ballymun. I was curious about what lay ahead of me. The first on the list was a ground floor apartment of relatively recent construction. I took out my tools and set to work, finishing the survey up in less than fifteen minutes.
With nobody to distract me, I had completed all ten a couple of hours later. I decided to head home for the day, have lunch and process the paperwork for them. I had everything completed at 5:20. Of the ten units, eight needed pre-surveys so I tackled them first. I emailed the certs and the invoice to Ritchie. An hour or so later, I received a text from him.
“Are you awake?”
“It’s 7:00 at night. What do you think?”
The phone rang.
“What’s up?” I said, “am I too quick for you?”
“Let’s not go there again, Celtic is on in a minute.”
“Ok, what do you need?”
“Thanks for those, but can you hold the invoice until you have at least ten addresses on it?”
“Why?”
“Admin costs. It costs us €100 to process an invoice, whether there’s one address on it or a hundred.”
“Ok, I’ll publish the two that don’t need a pre, that’ll make it ten. I was trying to keep the pres and posts separate.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. Don’t. Did you do ten this afternoon?”
“Yes, but that won’t happen again. I was just getting that NSK shower out of my system.”
“Great, thanks for jumping on it so fast, though. Come on the hoops!”
I decided to watch Celtic too. It was a boring game, so I pulled my laptop over and opened it up. I wanted to check out Irish Rose’s gallery of pictures on her website. I enjoyed scrolling through them and tried to imagine what she looked like, since her face was obscured in the photos. Scrolling further, I noticed that she was on Twitter. My heart leapt.
I grabbed my phone and navigated to her page. It was very interesting. She had posted a lot of day-to-day pictures of her life while on breaks from working. She also had a couple of videos where she showed herself in new lingerie. She held her phone over her face as she filmed herself on a tall mirror, but there was enough there to get my juices flowing. She was quite a pretty girl.
I revisited the gallery on the website and spent an hour memorising every little scrap of data and information contained within. I noticed that she did outcalls to a client’s hotel room, it cost €100 more but I felt it might be worth the investment, especially as it was a new venture for me and I was visiting a city that I wasn’t overly familiar with.
It would also give me a modicum of control which might soothe the nerves that I was beginning to feel, even though it was a little less than a week away. I decided to email her and suggest the outcall. I closed the laptop and thought I’d hear back from her in a day or two. I locked up the house and went to bed.
Next morning I was up early, a busy day before me. I showered and made a mug of tea, which I drank with some smoked salmon and fresh granary bread from a local bakery. I sorted out my keys to save a lot of unnecessary travelling around Kilbarrack and made a list inside a rudimentary map that I had drawn of my route around the estate.
Of the ten dwellings, five of them were in one little cul-de-sac. Three of them were together in one three-storey building in St. Berachs Wood, which had suffered damage when it went on fire and had to be renovated. The other two were ground-floor apartments, literally across the road.
Of the remaining five, one of these was in a private development just off the Kilbarrack Road while the other four were senior citizens’ accommodation in Saint Monica’s Court. I decided to start in the St. Berachs units and, hopefully, get them done by lunchtime. I could do the last five on the next day, Friday, leaving me the full weekend to process the paperwork. I had a football function to attend on Saturday night and wished to leave the evening clear.
I Google mapped the St. Berachs properties and they looked quite new. On looking at the other two, I felt I could get another couple done by lunchtime as they weren’t overly big or complicated looking. The email woke up as I perused the lone apartment location and a stream of notifications tumbled out onto my screen. One in particular, from Irish Rose, made me open it immediately.
“Hi, Billy, love,
Lovely to hear from you. Yes, I can do an Outcall to your hotel at 10:00 AM next Tuesday morning. If you’d like me to book it in please let me know as soon as possible. I’ll also need the hotel location and room number, if it’s available at this stage.
Thank you for your note, I look forward to hearing back from you
XXX
Your Wild Irish Rose.”
I checked my watch, 8:10. I had plenty of time. The Energy Show was being held in the Ulster Hall, close to the Europa Hotel, where I had booked a Junior Suite for three nights. My pass for the show got me a nice discount on a bed and breakfast package and I guessed there was quite an influx to the hotel on the back of the Energy Show attendance. I pulled up their website and dialled the number. A pleasant Northern Irish female voice answered my call. She gave her name as Alison.
“Good morning, Alison, how are you today?”
“I’m very well thank you, sir. How are you?”
“Oh, busy as usual, you know how it gets.”
“I do indeed, how may I help you today?”
“Yes, I’m booked into a Junior Suite for three nights next week. I’m up there for the Energy Show,” I said, “would it be possible for you to be able to tell me my room number in advance, please?”
“I’ll check that for you now, sir. Can you give me your booking reference please?”
I read it to her from my email confirmation.
“Thank you, Mr. Byrne. Can you hold for a moment please?”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry to bother you with minutiae like this so early in the day.”
“Not at all, give me a second or two.”
After subjecting me to Westside’s awful hold music, Alison returned with a positive tone.
“Thank you for holding, Mr. Byrne. Yes, you’ve been booked into our Junior Suite, JS42 for three nights. Check-in time is 3:00pm.”
“Thank you. Alison, you’re an angel sent from heaven.”
She giggled and wished me a nice day before hanging up the phone. I immediately sent the information by reply to Irish Rose, satisfied with accomplishing the next step on the road to redemption. I hurried off to work, full of the joys of spring and overshadowed by excitement mixed with a certain amount of trepidation and dread.
The first five surveys were a piece of piss and I motored through them in an average time of twelve minutes each. I got good draws on each of them and was quite impressed. The next one was an apartment that DCO had purchased on the market. It had an initial cert in place, so only a Post Survey was required. I parked outside the development at 9:45 and was back in my car at 10:05.
I then drove the three hundred metres, or so, to St. Monica’s Court, a development of old Senior Citizens flats, facing on to on the Tonlegee Road at the rear. I had never seen anything quite like these and it took me a minute to verify the actual accommodations inside the units. They were, essentially, a bedsit that contained one large room which served as a bedroom, living room and dining room. There was a basic scullery-type kitchen, big enough to house a small cooker, sink and a couple of overhead cabinets, I assumed that the fridge would also be located in the main space too. Across the small hallway was the bathroom and, in fairness, you could just about swing a cat in there. That’s if you wanted to give the cat a heart attack or, at a minimum, scare it shitless. These units measured six and a half metres long by a little under 4 metres wide, took me six minutes each and I almost called Ritchie D to see had he any more to be done.
I returned home, via the supermarket, and got my paperwork set up for processing. I put my groceries away and switched on some music to entertain me through, what I estimated as, an hour of paperwork. I was settling in, having just completed calculations on the former private apartment when my phone rang. Noely Gallagher again.
“Noel,” I said into the phone.
“Hey Billy,” he said, wearily, “what’s happening?”
“Not much. You?”
“Have you reconsidered yet?”
“Reconsidered what?”
“Your resignation from NSK.”
“No, I’m out, definitely.”
“Ah Jaysus, Bill,” he said, “at least come in for a few days and do five jobs for me to clear my slate.”
“When?”
“Monday.”
“I can’t, I’m in Belfast on Monday for the Energy Show.”
“That fuckin’ Energy Show,” he moaned, “there’ll be nobody left in the country while that’s on.”
“It’s only for two days, what could go wrong?”
“Can you not just go up on Tuesday and you can do these surveys for me on Monday?”
“No, the hotel’s booked and everything,” I said, “listen, Noel, I’ve got a handy little gig with Ritchie D. He’s paying thirty percent more and needs two surveys done on each unit that has no cert in place. Plus, I just do the energy survey and none of that other nonsense that NSK want us to do for free.”
“Fuck, where’s that cunt working now? I thought he retired.”
“He retired from DCO and is working in the private sector now.”
“I knew he’d fucking poach you away from us.”
“To be honest, Noely, it wasn’t a hard sell.”
“When are you starting with him?”
“I did a few units for him yesterday and the rest this morning, he was stuck for them.”
How many is a few?”
“Twenty in total.”
“Twenty? In a day?”
“Two days, Noely.”
“How much does that net you?”
“I don’t know, I tried to work it out but my calculator told me to fuck off and jumped in the bin.”
“Very funny.”
“It wasn’t bad.”
“Do you know anyone who’ll do a few surveys for me?”
“Do them yourself, if there’s only five.”
“I could, but there’s more than five.”
“How many?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Where are they?
“Kildare and Westmeath.”
“Yeah, what happened to the Northside of Dublin?
“Ritchie D won’t just give you Northside Dublin units, Bill.”
“He gave me twenty yesterday, that are no more than 10 minutes drive from my house,” I said, “listen, if they’re all in Kildare and Westmeath, John O’Gorman might do them for you. He lives in Rathcoole. He won’t work for the rate you’re paying, though, just telling you in advance.”
“A call won’t cost much, it might be worth it. Good luck, Billy. If you get sick of Ritchie D give me a buzz.”
“All the best, Noely.”
I got on with my work and had all of the calculations done by 5:00. Feeling hungry I cooked some chicken, with cauliflower cheese, broccoli and new potatoes, which I ate with a glass of white wine and a knife and fork. It was enjoyable and cooked in less than twenty minutes. I pushed back from the table and washed the dishes in the sink, before leaving them to air dry on the draining board. It was still early so I felt I should make a start on the data input part of the work. I was halfway through the first unit when I got notification of an email from Irish Rose.
“Hi, Billy, love,
Thank you for your hotel and room information. I’m really looking forward to seeing you at 10:00 AM on Tuesday morning. If you keep your phone on I can text you with my progress and access, just in case.
I don’t know what the hotel policy is for visitors to a room and I may ask you, if you don’t mind, to meet me in the lobby and bring me up in the lift if needed. When you check in you might let me know if a key card is required to operate the lift above the ground floor.
Thank you for your great communication and have a safe trip up to Belfast.
XXX
Your Irish Rose.”
I read the email thoroughly and then read it again to ensure I understood it perfectly. I could see why a hotel would put a restriction of use on the lifts, so that didn’t concern me. I could also imagine the awkwardness for her as she arrived at reception, asking to be allowed up to my room. My worry, if it happened that I had to meet her, was how it would look if she were to run out of the lobby having seen me walking towards her? Her website did mention that she had no policy of exclusion based on looks, age, experience or infirmity and I had to trust that she still held that view. Overall, though, I remained positive and held my negativity in check. I intended to try and enjoy the experience because, after all, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I returned to work at the computer and the buzz I was feeling, as everything appeared to be coming together, gave me terrific motivation to work through the distraction of my brain as it focused purely on my planned assignation with Irish Rose. I completed the surveys at 10:30 and went to bed. I’d email the certs to Ritchie the next morning, along with the invoice, and then publish the second round of certs on the units that needed them. I slept well and didn’t set the alarm. I woke naturally at 8.40AM and rolled over to sleep further, eventually rousing myself out of the bed at 9:00.
I showered and shaved before descending the stairs to the kitchen. I filled the kettle with water and plugged it in to make some tea. I popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and stood waiting for everything to sort itself out. I was about to light a smoke when Ritchie called.
“Morning,” I said down the phone.
“Where would you be?”
“I’m at home, are you coming down?”
“I have a few keys,” he said, “if you want them I’ll drop them in on my way past.”
“What are they for?”
“Forty more units in St Monica’s and St. Brigid’s,”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know and I don’t fucking care,” he said, “they ask and I try to provide.”
“Are they urgent?”
“Not today, I just got the keys now,” he said, “but there’ll be a bit of pressure from Tuesday I think.”
“How many in each?”
“Twelve in Monica’s, the rest in Brigid’s.”
“Ok, throw the keys in and I’ll make a start on Monica’s, try and finish that place off completely before I head off.”
“Fair fucks to you, Billy, I’ll be with you in five minutes.”
“Grand, the kettle is just boiled.”
“I won’t have tea, thanks.”
“Why?”
“My body is a temple.”
“You should move into Temple Bar.”
Ritchie dropped the keys in and left quickly. He was too busy to breathe. I spent an hour publishing certs from the previous evenings work and emailed them, and the invoice, to Ritchie. It was a little after 10:30 and I was regretting the extended stay in bed. I figured I could make a decent hole in the work i’d just been handed, so I grabbed my bag and headed back to St. Monica’s.
On my way there I received a few texts. As I was driving at the time I had to ignore them until I stopped the car, so I just kept going until I reached my destination. I parked inside the development and scrolled through my messages. They were all from Amy Cobbe, the Personal Assistant of Maurice McHugh, MD and CEO of Eastside Engineering Contractors, based out in Tallaght.
Rumour had it that Amy was much more than Maurice’s PA and, I have to say, I wouldn’t think twice about sorting her out if she was stuck. The texts all said, “Call me,” or “Where are you?” or “Are you alive?” I texted her instead. The phone rang instantly.
“What’s up?”
“Why don’t you answer your phone?”
“I’m good Amy, how are you?”
“Sorry, Billy, it’s a circus here today.”
“Ok, so what’s wrong?”
“There’s a big anniversary dinner tonight.”
“Yes, it sounds like a snotty affair.”
“It’s not really, but the McHughs are going all out for it and they’re expecting us to do the same, she said, “we’ve all had to hire dresses for it.”
“And you want a loan of my tux?”
“No, I want your body.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m the only one without a date, Billy.”
“You want to go with me?”
“If you’d see your way clear to.”
“I’d be happy to, usually, but I’m under the gun a little today. What time do I need to be there.”
“I was going to suggest that you could pick me up at my place, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“What time are you looking at, Amy?”
“Eightish?”
I thought about it for a moment and decided to do it. She’d be fun to spend time with and she was very easy on the eye.
“Text me your address. I’ll do it for you and nobody else.”
“Oh you’re an absolute saviour, Billy. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“A kiss from the fair maiden is recompense enough.”
“A kiss it shall be, brave prince.”
“Do I need a dress suit?”
“Yes, it’s fucking formal wear,” she said, “it’s far from tuxedos these classless cunts were reared, Billy.”
“I’ll take your word for that, Amy. I won’t let you down.”
I left the car and worked assiduously to get the surveys completed quickly. I decided that it would be best to survey everything and spend whatever downtime I had over the next few days processing the data from them. I estimated ninety minutes for this site, and two and a half to three hours for St. Brigid’s. That would put my finish time at about 3:30 or 4:00 if I skipped lunch and just grabbed a couple of Snickers bars in a shop on the way down there.
So it was that I set a brisk pace. Because I’d done a few the day before, I had a good routine that I stuck to and I got finished at 12:30. Ninety minutes exactly. I picked up and drove to St. Brigid’s, stopping on the way at The Elk, a small convenience store on the Tonlegee Road. I came out with two Snickers bars, a Mars bar and a coffee.
I sat in my car demolishing the coffee and the Mars bar. It was only then that I had a chance to think through the call with Amy and I wondered if there was anymore behind it. I dismissed the notion immediately it entered my head. Amy had to have guys lined up at her door to ask her out. Then why didn’t she get one of those to do it? Fuck knows.
Time was moving on so I put the boot down and got to St. Brigid’s at 12:50. I figured that, as all of the floor areas were similar, I could draw the entire twenty-eight floor plans out at once. I wouldn’t waste time doing them individually. It took me ten minutes to draw all twenty-eight and I set off to do the actual measuring, using the system I’d established at the other job. I completed all of them and walked in the door of my house at 2:55 exactly. I lay on the couch and promptly fell into a deep sleep. I was totally whacked.
I woke at 5:00, a little disorientated. It took me a while to get my bearings Amy had texted me her address and a picture of herself in her dress. She looked stunning. It was a simple LBD which hugged her figure like a second skin. I’d wear a black tie and cuff links to try and accessorise to her look properly, unless she had a different colour bag. I texted her and her reply was instant.
“Yes, I’ve a red clutch bag. Why do you want to know?”
“So we complement each other, I’ll accessorise my suit with a red bow tie and cuff links.”
“It’s a black-tie affair.”
“No, it’s black tie.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You didn’t. You said it was A black-tie affair. It’s called black tie, the A is redundant and I can accessorise to complement the lady.”
“I’m a lady?”
“You are tonight. Amy”
“Are you sure?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
“I’m going to enjoy this, Billy, or should I call you Sir William tonight?”
“Of course you should, Lady Amy.”
“I was a Princess this morning.”
“You’re still a Princess. You look stunning in that dress, though. I definitely would.”
“Hmm, lol”
“See you at eight.”
“X”
I detected a semi-erect penis making itself felt. It didn’t take much these days, sadly.
I dug my dress suit out of hibernation, pulling my wardrobe apart in the process. It hung at the back and it had been kept covered by the suit cover it came in when I bought it some ten years previously.
I laid it on the bed and unzipped it. It looked in great shape but, then again, it had only been used twice. A pair of black patent leather shoes sat on a rack at the bottom of the same wardrobe and, apart from a light film of dust, were still like new. I knew I had several white shirts so that wasn’t a concern, I’d just need to run the iron over one, while socks and ties were also in abundance.
I pressed a shirt with a steam iron and hung it on the door of the bathroom while I showered. The shower cleared my head and I felt a lot more refreshed when I stepped out of the stall than I did before I had gotten into it. I dressed quickly as time performed its usual competent disappearing trick. I picked up the trousers of the suit and reluctantly looked inside at the faint stain that inhabited the right hip just below the waistband. A remnant of the worst night of my life. The night I lost my wife, Áine, in a car accident ten years previously. I hadn’t worn this suit since then.
I shrugged off the memory as I touched the stain, in the shape of a bird, that was caused by blood from her head as I held her while waiting at the side of the road for assistance to arrive in the form of an ambulance at the scene of the motor accident that took her life. I probably would have thrown it out had it not been for our daughter, Aoife, who took charge of everything at the time, insisting that it would be wasteful to throw it away.
Fully dressed, I looked in the mirror. I looked fine. Everything was in good shape and still fitted perfectly. I tied a red bow tie on and took a black one in my pocket, just in case. I found a pair of black and red cuff links and clipped them into the sleeves of my shirt, slipped a black, cummerbund around my waist and took a final appraisal. I didn’t look half bad.
At 7:20 I was ready for the evening and I was looking forward to it at this point. I opened the dusty lid of a leather storage trunk that was stored in one of the other bedrooms and smiled when I looked inside. Áine, a renowned packrat, had salted away a supply of things that she’d bought on her regular bargain-hunting trips into town. Sitting in a tray on top of the neatly packed trunk were a set of six silk orchid corsages in various colours, still in their hard plastic cases. I chose a red one and took it with me.
Amy lived in a mid-floor apartment in Charlotte Quay, a recent addition to the Dublin skyline. I buzzed her door at 7:45 and she let me in. I knew the development well, having done quite a few surveys in the building. She hugged me in greeting and pulled me inside by the hand.
“You scrub up really well, Billy,” she said with a huge smile.
“You look fantastic, Amy, that dress is stunning.”
“It’d want to be. It cost enough. What’s this?” she asked as I gave her the plastic box.
“It’s a silk orchid for your corsage.”
“Billy. It’s beautiful. You shouldn’t have.”
She took it out of the box and held it to her left shoulder.
“Can you pin it for me please?”
“Of course.”
I took it from her and slightly lifted the fabric of her dress just above her breast.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“I’m so sorry, Amy. What did I do?”
“Oh, no no,” she touched my hand, “It goes on the left.”
I held the hand that touched mine.
“The corsage goes on the right shoulder or décolletage of the lady. The boutonnière goes on a man’s left lapel, just above his heart.”
“Wow, you know your stuff, Billy Byrne,” she said happily, “we’ll show these fuckers how it’s done tonight.”
“And you’ll be the belle of the ball, Amy.”
She preened and hugged me again.
“Thank you, Billy, I take it all back,“ she said.”
She bade me sit in a chair in her lounge as she went to finish her preparations, I walked to a large glazed screen and took in the view over the Grand Canal Basin. It was a spectacular view from a spectacular apartment. Amy did well for herself, this place was not cheap. Current market valuations for this apartment were close to a million Euro. Maurice McHugh wasn’t paying Amy anything near what she would need to live in a place like that. Maybe the rumours were closer to the mark than I gave them credence for.
“Ah there you are, Billy,” she said, “admiring the view?”
“It’s spectacular, Amy,” I said, “these are fabulous apartments. How long have you lived here?”
“I bought it about two years ago,” she said, checking her bag to make sure she had everything she needed, “it wasn’t on the market but the owner had to sell it quick so I got it for quite a reasonable price.”
“Interesting,” I said, “you’ll need to give me that bit of gossip.”
“Later,” she said, “we need to make tracks, how do I look?”
“Beautiful, really beautiful,” I said, “I’ll be the envy of every man in the room.”
“You’re such a charmer,” she said, and we made to leave the apartment.
I stopped at a floor-to-ceiling mirror in the hallway and took her hand. She had a curious look on her face as I stood her beside me and looked in the mirror.
“What’s wrong, Billy,” she asked.
“This is what’s wrong, Amy,” I said, pointing at the red bow tie before pulling it off, “it doesn’t work, it should be black.”
“It’s fine, you look great.”
“You’re very kind, but it has to go,” I said, pulling the black one out of my pocket.
She laughed when she saw what I was up to. I quickly changed it and we left the apartment.
We got to the car and, luckily, it had been valeted the week before whilst in the garage for a service. She smiled as I opened her door and helped her inside and again when I got into the driver’s seat.
“Why the smile?”
“You’re just full of surprises, Billy Byrne.”
I smiled back, it felt good to genuinely surprise someone for once.
“Where to, my lady?”
“Did I not tell you?”
“If you did, I wouldn’t be asking.”
“I’m sorry, Billy, it was an oversight. We’re going to The Herbert.”
“The Herbert? In Ballsbridge?”
“Yes, the fucking Herbert.”
“This’ll be interesting,” I said, and we both laughed.
We parked in the underground car park of the hotel and used the lift to travel to reception. When they parted, we were greeted by the intoxicated eyes of Maurice McHugh himself. He looked from me to Amy and back again, trying to place us in a recognition that he couldn’t quite grasp. He recovered quickly, though, and reached out a hand to me.
“Billy Byrne, long time, no see,” he said.
“The longer the better, Maurice,” I replied with a smile.
“Amy, how did you end up with this rogue?” he asked of Amy.
“Billy kindly agreed to accompany me this evening. At very short notice too, Maurice.”
“Well, I’m very happy to see you both,” he said and brought us over to meet his wife, Mary.
Mary was a horse of a woman, as they say down in Cork. She was the epitome of a fine, big, agricultural Irish woman and Maurice held her hand as he introduced us.
“Amy, thank you for everything you did to make this happen, we’d be lost without you,” she said, as she pulled Amy into a hug.
She shook my hand and said, “delighted to meet you, Billy. How did you two meet?”
“Oh, no, Mary. Billy is here as my plus one. He got me out of a hole today by agreeing to accompany me,” Amy said quickly.
“That was very kind of you, Billy,” Mary said.
“Amy is hard to refuse,” I said, and all four of us laughed.
We moved away and headed for the function room. As we walked slowly along the marble floors, Amy made sure she saw everyone she passed by, as though she was looking for someone that she knew.
“Nice place this, Amy,” I said.
“Yes, it’s fine. It’s the five-star hotel that the ignorami use.”
“Miaow!” I said, and she laughed out loud.
We found a group of people that Amy knew and accompanied them into the bowels of the function room. It was decorated with pictures of the male members of the family who had founded, developed and expanded the company into its current iteration. I was surprised to find that it had been established seventy-five years previously and this was the cause of the celebration. It struck me as a bit of an odd one, I could understand a fifty one hundred year anniversary event, but not a seventy-five year one. I remarked on this to Amy. She nodded her head in agreement.
“Don’t think that I didn’t mention that, Billy.”
“They obviously didn’t listen to you.”
“Yes, but what do you expect from a pig but a grunt?”
We took our seats at the table allotted to us and shared it with two other couples. We smiled at their jokes and listened as they spoke but it was a compellingly boring occasion and Amy came into her own as she showed tremendous poise and grace, charming them all, women and men, with her bonhomie, light humour, her beauty and elegance.
“I take it that these people are clients?”
“Yes, important ones. How did you guess?”
“You seem to be working them.”
“A bit of a sharp observation, Billy, but accurate,” she said, “Maurice brought me here to do this. I decided to invite you.”
“So he’s a bit pissed off at my presence?”
“No, there’s a motive in my madness.”
“Which is?”
“Maurice wants you to come back and work with him on an independent basis.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I’d like you to.”
“Why?”
“Apart from being very good at your job, I like you and find you easy to do business with.”
“What kind of work?”
“See the small chap sitting directly across from you?”
“Yes.”
“He’s one of the partners in a new offshoot development company that will build out a two thousand unit apartment and affordable homes development.”
“Where?”
“I can’t say until after Monday. The contracts are being signed then.”
“Ok, but I might not be able to handle it, Amy.”
“Why not?”
“I just started doing some Social Housing with a company out of England.”
“Nordic?”
“I think so. My contact is a childhood friend.”
“Richard Davis?”
“How the fuck do you know all of this?”
“It’s my job to know, Billy. We’ll be talking to Ritchie once the contracts are signed.”
“He seems to like it there, He might not be interested.”
“Oh, I think he will. Nordic aren’t everything they’re telling everyone that they are.”
“I see, I think. What does that mean?”
“They’re a Special Purpose Vehicle that are simply ratcheting up the value of the company by signing up anyone they can to low priced contracts, purely to increase their market value for a future sale.”
“But that’s crazy.”
“We all know that, and so do the local councils. Nordic don’t own as much as a trowel, Billy. It’s a paper company.”
“And I aligned myself with them.”
“No, you aligned yourself with Ritchie. Ritchie just takes Nordic’s shilling. He works directly with DCO on a three-day post-retirement agreement that will expire in two years. After that, he’ll work with us.”
“Does he know this?”
“It was his idea, but please don’t say anything to him. I know that DCO are so far behind in their surveying work, they’re panicking in case they get censured by the Government. So be prepared for an avalanche of work over the next few months.”
“It’s already happening, Amy. You should see the last two days I’ve had.”
“Already? They’re moving quick.”
“So are you guys. What’s your input here?”
“I just watch and listen. If I have any suggestions or input, it’s directly into McHugh’s ear. He then takes ownership of my ideas and broadcasts them, making himself look good into the bargain.”
“It’s all wheels within wheels, isn’t it?”
“In very large measure, Billy,” she said, “will you excuse me for a bit? I have to circulate a little.”
“Yes, of course,” I said, “I’m going for a cigarette.”
I stood against a wall at the back of the smoke shed and ran that conversation through my head again. It didn’t sound like something that I was keen to be involved with. My life had a sense of order about it that wasn’t that easy to achieve. I finished my smoke and went for a walk outside the hotel. It was a nice evening as I strolled past the US Embassy and down to the old Jury’s Hotel site. I checked my phone for messages. Nothing at all. The usual Friday ghost town.
I reached the kiosk across from Jury’s and crossed to the other side. I began the return walk up to the Sherry Fitz shop and crossed back over to the entrance road of the hotel, uneasy now, about the reasons for my presence there that night. It was true that one gets a bit foolish when one reaches a certain age. I felt that I needed to have a full and frank conversation with Amy or Maurice, but it wasn’t the right occasion to do so. I also had the option of saying nothing and then citing advancing years before turning the offer down. After all, I had experience of being manipulated by Maurice McHugh over the years and he knew that I could see that he was just an ignorant, unconscionable and abusive bastard.
As I approached the door, I saw Amy standing there looking out through the glass. She was a beautiful woman. She was tall and elegantly slim with short, light red hair that framed her oval face like a portrait in a gallery. She often reminded me of Áine in may respects. She had the same blue eyes, luscious lips and clear complexion coupled with an intelligence and alertness that few people enjoy. Her long, slim neck reminded me of the classic bust of Nefertiti, her majestic visage peering out at her subjects. She smiled when she saw me and came to meet me.
“I thought you’d abandoned me, Billy,” she said, smiling.
“No, I’d never do that, Amy,” I said, “I had a smoke and took a stroll down to the kiosk and back while you were busy.”
“Well, I’m not busy now and the music is about to begin. Dance with me?”
“Did everyone else refuse you?”
“I didn’t ask anyone else, you’re my date, tonight. I dance only with you.”
“Ooh it’s a date now,” I said, “I prefer this.”
She took my hand and led me to the dance floor. The music had just started up and I was grateful that it was a slower piece. I took her in my arms and we twirled across the floor.
“You’re a very good dancer, Billy.”
“You’re a very good partner, Amy, but let’s not get too adventurous, just in case.”
She laughed as she touched my shoulder with the side of her face. We danced for three more pieces of music before the younger crowd got their way and sped things up. We sat down and Amy picked up two glasses of champagne, handing me one.
“To happiness,” she said.
“To absent friends,” I said, and we clinked glasses.
This was my first, and would be my only, drink of the evening because I valued my driving license, but Amy had consumed several and was a little bit on edge. As she consumed her champagne, she relaxed a bit more, the success of the event becoming apparent.
“You did a great job here tonight, Amy.”
“Thanks, Billy, it has been nerve-wracking.”
She took my hand.
“Can I ask how old you are? I cannot put a number to you.”
“Take a guess.”
“I don’t know, the girls in the office think you’re in your early fifties or late forties. I think fifties, say fifty-two?”
“You’re in the general area, Amy.”
“Are you not going to ask me my age?”
“A gentleman would never ask that of a lady.”
“Yes, but I’m a Princess tonight and us Princesses don’t really mind.”
“Ok, go on, tell me, but don’t worry, I won’t hold your wretched agedness against you.”
She slapped my arm.
“Cheeky! I’m forty-two.”
“I never would have guessed that. But what’s this they say? You’re only as old as the woman you’re kissing?”
“I think you cleaned that up for me.”
“Somewhat,” I said, and we laughed uproariously.
At the end of the evening I dropped her to her apartment and kissed her goodnight. She got out of the car, waved at me and disappeared into the vastness of the shadowed entrance.
The weekend was spent tied to my office. I rose at 7:00, made a breakfast of coffee, toast and poached eggs and sat at my desk for the morning. I got through quite a bit of stuff and kept checking to see what, if anything, I’d missed. The units were so small, I could process them in about a fifth of the time it took to do the NSK jobs. I had most of them completed by noon and decided to head out for Brunch. The Brew Dog Brunch had been recommended to me by Aoife so I threw caution to the winds and headed for the large ugly building on the banks of the Liffey near the entrance to the Port of Dublin.
I didn’t know what to expect but I went inside and had a quick look around. It was a bit of a kip, to be honest, and I was going to leave when my stomach rumbled, warning me that I needed to fill it. I sat at a booth overlooking the Irish Sea and picked up a menu from some kind of Jenga puzzle holder that was trendy in these modern craft beer establishments. Two young girls came and stood at my table. They stood there for a minute, big smiles on their faces. I doubt they had more than ten words of English between them. I guessed that they wanted me to place an order, so I ordered Buttermilk Fried Chicken with loaded fries, whatever they were, and a flat white coffee. They trilled as they walked away and only they knew what I was going to get.
Having finished what turned out to be a forgettable culinary experience, I spun into town and stocked up on supplies and some clothes for my trip to Belfast. I got back to my house in midafternoon and spent another hour or two polishing off my work. I emailed the certs and invoice for all of the Pre certs and published everything else. I decided to finish everything early on Monday morning before I left for the North.
Sunday I spent packing and fine-tuning. I lunched at the Yacht in Clontarf and enjoyed a long phone call with Aoife in the evening. I was in bed asleep by ten o’clock, another night of mayhem behind me.
I got out of bed early on Monday morning. I was already packed and ready to go but I had a few things to take care of. After a breakfast of tea and toast, I spent about an hour completing everything that Ritchie D had given me to do. I emailed the certs and invoice and shut the computer down at 11:45. Not wishing to return home to a messy kitchen, I tidied the room up and then swept the floor.
At 1:00 I got into the car and headed off to Belfast, stopping off at a MacDonalds in Newry, for a burger and a drink. I arrived at the hotel guest car park at 3:15, checked in and went straight to my room for a shower and a lie-down. I was horrified to find that I had to wave my room keycard across a sensor in the lift control panel to make it work.
I let myself into the room. The luxurious suite was impressive and I abandoned my bag and took a tour through it. Unfortunately, the lift access was to the fore of my mind. I texted Irish Rose and let her know. I set myself up in the room, then hurried back down to the lobby and walked out into the street. Taking a quick inventory of the streetscape, I felt the least intrusive place to meet her would be outside the Opera House, across Glengall Street and the next building along from the hotel.
I was in the lift heading back to my room when I heard her text arriving in my phone.
“Thanks, love,
I guessed as much. If you can meet me outside at 9:50 we can use the lift together. Let me know if this works.
XXX
Your Wild Irish Rose.”
I replied immediately and received an almost instant text in reply.
“Excellent! That sounds perfect. I’ll be wearing a long black overcoat and carrying a green medium-sized YSL bag (picture to follow).
XXX”
It was followed immediately by a picture of the bag. She was impressively proactive, which settled me down. I sent her a thumbs up and returned to my room for my longed-for lie down.
Next morning I woke at 7:00 and decided to have breakfast in the hotel restaurant. I ordered scrambled eggs with bacon and toast and sipped on a cup of coffee whilst trying to read the Irish Independent. I couldn’t focus on anything in it as I felt my nervousness start to increase. I killed an hour in the dining room, left a tip and took the paper outside for a badly needed smoke.
Two cigarettes later, I noticed that the Europa Barbers Lounge was across the street. It was a little after 8:00 and the lights were on so I strolled over and walked up one flight of stairs. It was empty and I was welcomed in by a man who had been sweeping the floor. I asked for a quick trim and a shave and he could not do enough for me. We had a nice chat and when he finished I paid him, shook his hand and crossed back over to the hotel.
It was 8:40 at that stage and the moment of truth was close. I paused to have one last smoke for the condemned man before going back to my room and jumping straight in the shower. I focused on my shower routine, doubling the usual time I normally spent there. I then brushed my teeth again as my hair air dried, checking the time as I did so. 9:30. The shower had taken the ‘just cut’ look off my hair and it didn’t look too bad as I dried myself off. I dressed quickly, tidied up the room and the bed, hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door handle and ambled over to the corner of Glengall Street to await my fate.
I felt my heart pumping loudly as I stood there with my hands in my pockets. My research told me that I should have her fee in an unsealed envelope. I touched the corner of the envelope as it stick slightly out of my inside pocket. Bang on time, I saw her strolling along as she came towards me. She walked happily and appeared to have not a care in the world. She smiled and reached for a hug when I smiled as she said, “Billy?”
It was brief but welcome. She held my hand and looked into my eyes.
“Have you been here long?”
“No, just a few minutes, you’re bang on time.”
“Yes, I’m staying not too far from here.”
“You have a Dublin accent?” I asked.
“Yes, so do you. What has you in Belfast?”
“The Energy Show, I’m here for a couple of days.”
We made tracks for the hotel and I ushered her into the lift and up to my room. When we got inside, I immediately handed her the envelope. She noticed the shaking of my hand. She smiled and reached for a hug.
“Are you nervous or cold?”
“Parkinson’s,” I said.
She laughed.
“Don’t worry, we’ll have a lovely time together,” she said, her young eyes teaching mine the art of calming someone down. She was very good and she was very pretty.
She took off her coat and straightened the black sweater and gypsy skirt she wore under her coat. She picked up her bag and said,
“Can I use the bathroom real quick, please?”
I didn’t feel the need to say yes, but I did in any case. When she returned she took my breath away as she was dressed only in a sexy black lace bra and thong. I hadn’t been expecting that but how would I know what to expect?
She kissed me then, using her lips and tongue to engage me. After a few minutes of this she whispered, “you have nice lips, Billy.”
“You certainly know how to kiss, Rose,” I said.
“Thank you, call me Sorcha, Rose is just a name I use for work.”
She sat on the bedside, holding my hands and bringing me with her. Her eyes bore into mine as she smiled.
“So what would you like to do?” she asked.
I hesitated and she immediately continued,
“I like to be kissed and teased. Play with my hair and touch my breasts gently, I have sensitive nipples so no biting just licking,” she said, “what about you?”
“I’m a pretty vanilla kind of chap, Sorcha. I enjoy all of the above but what makes me happiest is giving oral.”
“Not receiving it?”
“Oh yes, but mainly giving.”
“I love oral too, Billy. I think we’ll really enjoy this. No fingers down there, though, ok!”
“I understand.”
“Do you want to undress? Even things out a bit?”
I was naked in less than ten seconds. She reached for me and ground her body against mine as she kissed me deeply. It produced a powerful erection which made her smile.
“Someone is awake,” she said and reached behind her back to open her bra. I assisted her in taking it off completely.
“You can undress me too, you know.”
“Thank you,” I said as she laid on the bed, her arms out in invitation.
It was a curious sensation, we did kiss deeply and it was erotic and arousing, even without the emotional connection that I thought we’d probably need. She led me along and offered me one of her small pert breasts, which I gratefully kissed and squeezed gently before taking her nipple between my lips.
I kissed down her stomach and let my hand wander to her inner thigh, she sighed,
“You have lovely hands, I like your soft touch,” she whispered, as she seemed to get into it, probably for my benefit, I felt.
“Thank you,” I said, as my hands flitted across her bum and touched it under the fabric of her thong.
“That’s nice, Billy, do you want to take it off?”
“Can I?”
“Yes,” and she lifted her hips to allow me slide it down and off.
She was hairless and her skin was soft and smooth. I knelt between her legs and gloried in her femininity, something I didn’t expect to feel. Her legs opened and revealed a beautifully compact vulva, it was mesmerising.
“My God, you’re a beautiful lady, Sorcha.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
Her nipples were erect as I lowered my head.
“If there’s anything I’m not doing that you like, please tell me,” I said.
“Oh, I will.”
I eased her legs wider apart as my lips kissed and sucked on her groin where it surrounded her vulva. Using my tongue I let it touch and taste her shaved mound, eliciting a soft murmur and slight movement of her hips. I placed my tongue inside her vulva, delighted to find that she had become moist.
I massaged more than licked her, keeping my tongue soft as I explored her entire intimate area of pleasure. She lifted her hips slightly,
“Lower,” she breathed.
I responded and dipped my head lower, the top of my tongue just barely entering her vaginal opening.
“God, that’s perfect.”
I continued licking, massaging and sucking on her vulva and her labia lips before eventually allowing my tongue to meet her clitoral hood. This caused a sharp intake of breath that concerned me. I lifted off slightly and looked at her as her head was extended backwards over the pillow.
“You ok?”
“Oh God yes, don’t stop.”
I focused my attention on circling her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, feeling her stomach muscles tensing as she became more active beneath my touch. She raised her hips again and I lowered my tongue to her vaginal opening, causing her to groan lightly. I then employed long faster sweeps along her entire vulva as her body movement became quicker and more urgent. She held my head in place as her breath came harder. My hand pressed on her stomach to hold her in place as my tongue worked quicker and harder, until I felt the delicious taste of her excreted fluid as it rushed from her vagina and she cried out in pleasure mixed with surprise, shock and a little misunderstanding. I continued with a gentler movement and slower pace as she becalmed. She pulled me to her and kissed me deeply and passionately.
“Jesus Billy, this is your first time with an escort?” she breathed.
“Yes, honestly.”
“Do you think you could do that again?”
“I can but try.”
“Do you want me to give you head first?”
“How about a 69?”
“Oh, yes. That will work for me,” she said, as she straddled my face, “but, can I have some more of your oral later?”
“Yes, of course, Sorcha,” I said, as her lips slid seductively over the engorged head of my fully aroused and erect penis, “you can have as much as you desire.”
“Mmmmm,” was the only sound I could hear as I drifted off to a place I hadn’t visited for a long, long time.
TBC
