Hot Stew by Fiona Mozley (most interesting books to read .TXT) 📕

they were living in Peckham so every day she took the 63 bus to Elephant and Castle and afterwards the Northern Line. She massaged bodies and used special scrubs and muds and oils to exfoliate naked skin. She waxed and shaved and threaded body hair. Sometimes she inserted plastic tubes into anuses and flushed the customers’ insides of food they had eaten and half-digested.

Precious and Michael had a son, Marcus, then things began to fall apart. There were arguments about money, childcare and domestic arrangements. There were arguments that started quietly then grew. There were arguments about arguments. Most of all, there were arguments about the fact that Precious still worked. Michael had expected her to work for a couple of years but thought she would then give up her job and concentrate on raising a family. Precious disagreed. She liked working, though the employment in Highgate was not as fulfilling as the employment she had had in Nigeria. Michael left suddenly, a month before the birth of their second son.

Precious, Tabitha, Hazel, Candy, Young Scarlet, and a few others spend the evening drinking wine. They speak about the letter from the landlord: what could be done to combat the changes, and what they would do if nothing could be done. Later, the conversation turns to Scarlet’s website. She operates online as well as taking “walk-up” clients, and reckons she’ll be fine if they have to leave Soho.

“It’s all done with subscriptions,” Scarlet explains. “There are different levels of subscription depending on how much you want to pay and how much access you want.”

“Does it start with the I Don’t Normally Do This Kind of Thing membership and go all the way up to Absolute Bloody Pervert?” asks Candy.

Precious and Tabitha laugh but Young Scarlet scowls.

“The tiers are actually Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Platinum,” she continues, as if Candy hadn’t said anything, and isn’t sitting on the sofa next to her. Then she turns to her friend. “It’s actually a very classy website, Candida, unlike your cum-shot extravaganza.”

Precious and Tabitha continue to laugh. Young Scarlet and Candy throw each other venomous looks.

Scarlet goes on to explain what the various tiers mean, and what services she provides to her members, and about how some of her online customers go on to visit her in real life, or IRL, as she calls it. “But then on the other hand,” she says, “I’ve never met some of my biggest fans. They couldn’t be more enthusiastic about my tits, but they’ve never actually come over and touched them I-R-L.”

Precious is wary of the internet. Some of the other girls think Precious is reluctant to take her business online because she is old-fashioned. They teased her for operating as a kind of vintage prostitute, contacted by telephone (landline!).

“You’re like a retro hooker,” says one.

“An artisanal, hand-crafted hooker,” says another.

“Honestly, Precious,” says Scarlet. “You’re missing out on a major source of revenue. These days I’m making almost as much from my website as I am from my walk-up. And on top of that there’s the money I earn from selling the data to this big research company that predicts what kind of car someone is likely to buy based on what kind of porn they watch.”

Precious shakes her head. She doesn’t trust technology, as she has told Scarlet before. “You totally lose control,” she says. “As soon as you film yourself or take photos and put them online, they could literally be anywhere. Anyone could be looking at them or passing them on.”

“No, no, no,” says Scarlet. “I have control.”

“You don’t though,” says Precious.

“Well, I don’t care. I’m not as fussed about that kind of thing as you are. I’d rather have money than control.”

Scarlet says nothing more for a bit. It is possible Precious went too far. Everyone has different levels of comfort, different boundaries. It isn’t for her to tell Scarlet what she can and cannot do. She only meant she wouldn’t be comfortable with it herself. She doesn’t like the idea of her digital image being out there in the world for all to see, but then obviously not all women are comfortable with having sex for money.

Precious sometimes likes to think of herself as being like a valuable painting. She is worth the money she is worth because she is unique, exclusive, difficult to access. If she allowed her image to be replicated again and again and again, she would be worthless. How could she charge clients as much as she charges them if they could just log on to her website and have a wank?

She voices this thought to the room and the others just look at her as if she is insane. Candy says something about pieces of art that are just piles of literal crap on a table in the middle of a fancy gallery, and everyone laughs, and Precious returns to her wine.

After the other girls leave, Precious and Tabitha clear up together then get ready for bed. They share a double. They are as close as two people can be, though their relationship is not romantic. They are in love but they are not lovers.

The bed isn’t the large, ornate bed in the front room where Precious conducts her business, but is at the back of the flat, in a small bedroom. It is an expensive ergonomic bed with a special mattress because Tabitha suffers from intermittent, shooting back pain. Precious bought it from John Lewis. Precious also bought the bed sheets from John Lewis, in the sale. They were a fine cotton and soft on Tabitha’s sensitive skin. Precious sleeps with one pillow and Tabitha sleeps with five.

Tabitha likes to read in bed before falling asleep, which Precious finds frustrating because she is tired and wants the light to be switched off immediately. However, she is used to the set-up and it would be unreasonable to stop her friend reading before bed.

Tabitha is reading a book about Elizabethan London. She is into the Tudors in general,