Tag Archives: prostitution

Of literature, pelican crossings and escort girls in Liverpool!

I spent the Christmas period with my mum, her partner and my sister in Liverpool. Following a very enjoyable week with my family, I returned to London on Friday 27 December.

As my mum, her Partner and I stood at the pelican crossing outside Liverpool Central station, waiting to cross and make our way to Lime Street in order that I could catch my train back to London, my mum’s partner commented on a sticker affixed to the pelican, advertising the services of escort girls which (my mum added) had been rendered illegible by someone with a thick black marker pen)!

The above incident reminded me of my short story “Samantha”, which tells the story of an upper-class young woman forced into prostitution in the city of Liverpool, https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00BL3CNHI/. “Samantha” has received a number of great reviews, including the below 4 star review by Paul S:

Samantha

“I downloaded this short novel when it was being offered free on Amazon Kindle and I was pleasantly surprised by how good it was. It had a gripping plot, good characterisation and plenty of ‘atmosphere’; things that can be lacking in short stories. I think there may be a couple of formatting issues as I found I had to re-read a couple of paragraphs as they initially seemed out of place, possibly due to a missing carriage return instruction or perhaps because I was reading the story too quickly as I wanted to find out what happened next!
I won’t expand upon the plot as I do not want to create any spoilers but I suggest that you give this short novel a look if you enjoy atmospheric crime thrillers that have an element of romance, a gripping story line, some really nasty villains and a quite dramatic, action packed, climax”. To read the review on Amazon please follow this link, https://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R2YUTS78WBRB01/.

Who Then Is The Slave?

Is the young woman who knocks on the door
At just gone midnight
In heels, and oh so
Short dress, (and we all know what she is there for),
A slave
Even if she be paid?

And what of the lady who cleans the floor?
The well paid “whore”
Receives much more.
If both be paid,
Who then is the slave?

The midnight visitor may
Have a pimp to pay
But ’tis by no
Means always so.
Yet, if the man has no idea
Whether she comes out of fear
Is he a slave master
Complicit in a disaster?

But what of the cleaner brutalised by a boyfriend
Who all her money does spend
On drink,
Although she be paid
Do you not think
That she also is a slave?

Some Girls Dance For The Love Of The Thing

Some girls dance
For the love of the thing,
And others For the security that a ring
does bring.
While others, with a fixed smile
Dance in bed
For they have bills to pay
Although it has been said
That some would rather be dead
Than go down that way.
Be that as it may
Will you condemn
Those who with men
Consort for pay
When the wolf
is baying at the door
And call them, “Whore”?
Or will you
Metaphorically flay
The lonely men
Who pay
For company,
And more
With a girl you label “Whore”?
Tell me
Who will you condemn?

tottering on stilettos

Tottering on stilettos
Girls from ghettos
(And a few middle-class
Girls too) pass
Through lonely doors, and sing a song
That will be around so long
As mankind
Requires? desires?
More than food for his mind.

Did cavemen win
Young women to sin
With fine polished stone?
I own
I do not know
Though I suspect it was so.
And still girls go
Through lonely doors
And are labelled, hoars

You May Lie

You may lie
Back and think
Of your native lands,
And sigh
So he will think
In his drink
That his hands
And unshaven kiss
Have tipped you
Into the abyss
Of bliss

In his heart
(The better part)?
He may know
That it is not so,
But drink
Causes many a man to think
The untrue is true,
(But there are sober fools too).
And you,
do you Do
What you Need to
When you take the cash
Of the lonely, brash
And rash?

Charades

How do you imagine me?
Do you see
Danger smouldering behind dark glasses?
A young man, superficially charming,
My good looks disarming
Girls who dance
To my tune of false romance?

Do you see me
In a sports car
With a false number plate
Where girls go too far
And learn too late
The meaning of hate?

You don’t see a young
Woman, my compassion flung
Aside.
I shall decide
Which girl shall work tonight,
To bring delight
To you good sir.

I swear
That you wouldn’t guess
That beneath my demure dress
There beats a heart of stone.
My voice on the phone
Is matter-of-fact.
(I never discuss the actual act
But we glean
What each other mean
In this game of charades
Where the cards
Are stacked in my favour).
You can have any flavour
You like tonight
But mind your language for I have learned, over the years
That walls have ears
And many a business ends in tears
When a girl is indiscreet
About who she will meet.

A man of the world addresses a young woman of easy virtue

“A service like any other,
But don’t tell your mother
As she
Is not like you and me.
We see
The truth plain
(which many distain)
That for the right price
He Can frequently have the She
Of his choosing
And vice
Is a call
Or click away.
How easy ‘tis to fall
Off a log, and oft we lack
The will to climb back”.