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Me, I’d be rubbish escort—hah!—trippin’ over me trousers, mumblin’ “Err, hullo, sexy time?” Made me happy once, readin’ this escort’s blog—proper clever lass, savin’ for uni! Surprised me, that did, thought they all just—y’know—bonked for cash. Nah, some got dreams, mate! “The body is a shell,” film says, and ain’t that true? Shell’s all fancy, but inside’s what counts.

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But then, my phone buzzes again. It’s my boss. “We need to talk,” he says. Oh great, just what I need. I head back to the office, and my stomach’s in knots. I’m thinkin’ I’m about to get chewed out for that deal fallin’ through.

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