But mild audience participation and a bit of self-penetration was as far as she ever went. There were some girls who’d do anything on stage. Anything. They always said they were only doing it for the money but Gabby thought it was more complicated than that. They’d go down on their knees, suck men’s cocks, they’d fuck them, they’d let themselves be whipped. They didn’t seem to be actually enjoying it, not in any straightforward sexual way, at least, but they were definitely getting something out of it, satisfying something that needed to be satisfied, and not just the need for money.
Gabby had never been tempted to go that far. You might as well be a prostitute. She’d met people who talked about ‘the sex industry’ as all one big happy family, but she didn’t feel that she had anything in common with people who fucked for money. She’d even turned down the chance to be in a blue movie, which would have meant an amazing amount of money. But that hadn’t tempted her either. Once they’d got you on film they’d got you for good. Someone might recognize you. Your father might see it. At least with a live show the audience was as implicated as the stripper, and once the show was over it was over. Nobody could replay it. Nobody took away anything that was yours.
Mick had never really wanted her to go stripping in London. He thought London was a city where anything could happen, where any sort of horror might afflict you. But the money was good and she’d done quite a few gigs down there and she’d had no trouble at all, so Mick had gradually got used to the idea. There were times when he offered to come with her, offered to drive her there and back, but she’d always refused. She liked to be alone there. It gave her a feeling of independence and sophistication. She liked to make a day of it, do some shopping for clothes and shoes, and that had always been enough to deter him. He wasn’t the sort of man you could drag around women’s clothes shops. But when she got back she always had to give him a painstakingly detailed account of how the gig had gone, what the place was like, what she’d done in her act, how the crowd had reacted.
Unlike some strippers, Gabby didn’t hate men, but she did find them comical. They were so easy to read. You knew exactly what they’d do in any given circumstances. The sight of a naked woman, the mere promise of the sight of a naked woman, was enough to make them do almost anything you wanted. And even though he was a strange one, it was pretty much the same with Mick. All the way back from London she’d rehearsed what she was going to tell him, what she was going to say about the gang-rape, so that he’d react in precisely the way she wanted. She knew that if she did it right he’d immediately head down to London, start tracking down six men, and start kicking heads. It was strange to think how much power she had over him, how much he was her creature. But then, she thought, we are all somebody’s creature. And predictably enough he’d gone, just like that, so quickly, with such determination, just as she’d wanted and planned.
Life was different without him. Their affair wasn’t big or serious or permanent, but they’d seen a lot of each other and there was something missing when he wasn’t around. Still, a woman could find ways of entertaining herself. For one thing she could carry on stripping, working on the local circuit that she knew best. It was strange not having him there to watch the show and offer some comments on her performance. She realized how good he was, how he had never put her down, only ever said how she might improve what she was already doing. In his absence she hoped she could keep up his high standards.
She tried to imagine him in London, a place that she barely knew and yet had a powerful attraction towards. She felt for him, a danger to himself but more of a danger to others. Either way she would be glad when it was over, when he’d done what he’d gone to do. She hoped he didn’t get hurt. She hoped he didn’t get caught. She wished he’d get on with it, do it quickly and efficiently, but more than anything else, she wished he’d stop telephoning her.
A SECOND PHONECALL HOME
Mick stood in a different phone box, about to ring the same Sheffield number, Cabby’s number. The floor of the phone box was wet and it stank of urine. Was that a thing that happened only in London? Maybe it happened everywhere but he wasn’t sure. He rarely used phone boxes back home but he had no memory of them being as foul as this one.
“It’s me again,” he said the moment the line connected.
“Hello, Mick.”
She sounded bored, weary, not especially pleased to hear from him, as though she found him a bit of a pest.
“Two down, four to go,” he said.
“Really?” And she perked up considerably. “Any trouble?”
“Not for me,” Mick said serenely. “Do you want to hear some details?”
“No, not really,” she replied.
“No? I thought you might. I mean I’m punishing these guys, but I was thinking you might want to know precisely how I’m doing it.”
“I’m sure you’ll be doing it just right.”
“I might be doing it too little or too much.”
“I don’t think you will be.”
“These guys walk away after I’ve finished with them, you know. They’re wounded but they’re still walking.”
“That sounds OK to me,” Gabby said.
“If it doesn’t sound right I can fix it so they never walk again.”
“I don’t mind them walking, I just don’t want them doing what they did to me, not ever again.”
“That’s a different sort of problem,” Mick said thoughtfully, “and I’ve been giving it some consideration. I mean, here I am beating up these guys, but so far they don’t know why. I reckon they just think I’m some nutter. I ccmld tell them why I’m doing it, of course. I could say it’s because of what they did to you, and there’d be some satisfaction in having them know why it’s happening to them. The downside is that the ones I’d attacked would then be able to warn the others and they’d be ready for me and able to protect themselves and that’s definitely not what we want, is it?”
She was very quiet at the other end of the phone and then she said hesitantly, “No, it’s probably better if you don’t tell them. Let them work it out for themselves.”
“If they worked it out for themselves they’d still be able to forewarn the others, wouldn’t they? So what I’ve been doing is dishing out the punishment in such a way that I don’t think they’re going to be very eager to go telling anybody about it.”
“I’m sure you’re doing right,” she said.
It seemed he could do nothing wrong in Cabby’s eyes.
“What you been up to?” he asked.
“Working.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I thought I’d better get back to it, like when you fall off a horse.”
“Very brave of you.”
“It didn’t seem all that brave.”
“Weren’t you scared?”
“Of what?”
“That it might all happen again.”
“For obvious reasons I tried very hard to put that thought out of my mind, OK?”
“OK. Which act did you do?”
“The Beefeater.”
“The oldies but goodies,” he said.
“The act went well,” she said with finality, before he had a chance to ask.