World's oldest profession

Gladys is eighteen years of age. God was kind enough to give her a body, which is worthy of a princess in fairy tales. She was born in Golborne, a coal-mining town in Lancashire, between Manchester in the West, and Liverpool in the East.  Once a booming industrial working class area, until ten miners died out of eleven in the mine, due to a methane explosion on 18^th March 1979, from an electrical spark in the colliery. The Bonk colliery was closed around 1989 which caused loss of majority jobs in Golborne, spreading to surrounding towns of Abram, Lowton and Ashton-in-Makerfield. It was a bad time for all. Gladys was born to James and Margret Lewiston, and father, James passed away due to a bad case of tuberculosis just before the Bonk colliery closure. Mother, Margret Lewiston stayed on, due no proper education and did not know where to turn. Or maybe, also due to the loss of her regular income, she turned to Gin, the strong stuff.  After sometime, Gin became her friend, and would drown her sorrows until she is no more herself. Budding Gladys also was not too bright in mind, and school was a pastime like the other similar children. After sourcing consultation from her peers, she decided to leave Golborne for nearby Manchester, to seek greener pastures. Without educational qualifications, there was not much to do, except be a checkout counter assistant at Tesco. The income was not enough to pay for her digs, let alone food. She has been noticing that men would give her the eyes with their mouth relishing with saliva dropping. This prompted Gladys to let men touch her in pubs, for a small amount of money to earn for her meals and a few drinks as investment for the future. She is not a drinking girl like her mother.

Gladys thought long and hard, with no qualifications, and no skills to speak of, yet she knows money is to be made for food and shelter. She could not go back to her mother, as fending for herself is a difficulty, nor does she know of any grandparents for help. It was hard, yet a decision got to be made for her survival. It was no easy feat, mentally or physically. Offering one’s body is the last thing she wants to do, and how to get out of it once drifted into that profession. What had she done to deserve this? Why was she chosen to be the unlucky one? Gladys asked herself a thousand and one questions, with no real answers to satisfy her. Gladys cried and cried, till there were no more tears left in her eyes. There were no more options. Survivability is her only answer. God and her parents gave her the necessary tools, so she got to make good use with the body she’s got.

 

With time, it gave her courage to invite men to her digs, for extra curriculum activities, which yielded more than her Tesco job. She than realized, that her budding physique might prove useful in earnings more than the girls from nine to five jobs. Regretfully, the landlady soon figured it out, and gave marching orders to her by end of the week. Gladys manage to secure a substitute digs in a housing block at no.51 Litcham Close, near the town’s center. However, she is finding it hard to bring back clients to her digs, as she is much afraid that the landlady might kick her out again. This do happen, due they also do not want to be labeled operating a house of ill repute. Quite understanding. After being in the business for a couple of months, Gladys now uses an alias. Thus, her trade name became Vicki Carter, and people in her line of business would address her as such. Gladys guard her private life and name with utmost secrecy. Her profession and private life is kept separately at all times. Her new landlady also knows her only as Vicki Carter, but due to difficulty in bringing clients back, she has pooled together with other working girls, a small room on third floor building at Gore Street, in the red light district of Piccadilly. This way, her cover can be kept separate, difficulty solved. The only problem being the common toilet is on the first floor. Vicki kept an account with Barkley’s Bank in her original name of Gladys Lewiston. All documents relating to the bank account is kept separately in a post office box and all mails in her original name also directed there. She makes it a point to visit the post office box, once every two weeks, and takes care that she is not followed or she be wearing reviling clothes. This is her only guarantee in life and ultimate secrecy is strictly observed. She does not carry or keep anything at her digs, evidence relating to Gladys Lewiston. This true identity of hers is the passport back to the real world. Vicki Carter is finding it hard to keep her clients, due to high competition in the trade. Besides, in Manchester, men are not too liberal with money. Working late hours also created prowling eyes at her digs in Litcham Close, and that is not good for her cover and long-term business.

One day, Carol, her associate in the trade told her that she would be moving to London. Carol’s reason was two fold. One, her young daughter is growing up fast and wanted to move to a town where she is totally unknown. Two, business competition is getting tougher in Manchester red light area. Besides, men were spending less and the market is not too inviting or expanding. Vicki asked Carol whether she could join her, as she also wanted to disappear from this area too. It was all settled at last, within two weeks, they would call it quits in Manchester. All accounts and money matters were settled, and Vicki would not ask Carol about anything private, as it’s not done, and none of her business at that. Vicki did not have much items, it was just one plain backpack, no more, no less. Carol with her young daughter had three suitcases, quite understandable. They both informed their business associates, working girls in Piccadilly, they are proceeding to Glasgow to start afresh there. Vicki also said her salutations to her landlady, and told her that she is moving to Glasgow to join her sister there. Vicki needs to have an amicable departure, so keep the door ajar, as she does not know what awaits her, in the new land.

Carol and daughter plus Vicki were at Manchester Piccadilly train station by seven in the morning, they purposely took the wrong train from Manchester to Glasgow, so that any prowling eyes would see them board a train bound for Scotland. Nothing can be trusted and left to chance in their line of business. Once onboard the train and journey commenced, they informed the conductor that they boarded the wrong train, as they wanted to proceed to London and showed their tickets. The conductor was an understanding man, and would personally place them on the correct train once arrived at Glasgow Central. The journey to Glasgow was around three hours plus. At Glasgow Central, they re-boarded a train bound for London. The journey south took around five hours. On arrival at London Euston railway station, they first made a quick dash for an economical bed and breakfast place around Bayswater, inner West London area. Once checked in, both Carol and Vicki started flat hunting armed with a free local newspaper. By the next afternoon, they found adjacent flats at no.18 Ingasoll Road, walking distance from Shepherd’s Bush Market underground station. It was in a house owned by a Pakistani landlord, and they drew up a yearly tenant agreement with monthly advance rental payments from the date they move in, and a month advance notice of eviction. He enquired their occupations, and both stated that they just came in from Glasgow, seeking positions in advertising. He seemed not too interested in what they had to say, and was only being sympathetic, sparing his ear and rather more eager to secure his monthly advance rent. They were to drop their monthly advance rental envelopes, always in cash into the house’s letter box and he in turn would do the same for his receipts. The landlord and his family occupied the ground floor, while Carol and Vicki flats were on the first. Carol’s flat was one bedroom with sitting room, bathroom, kitchen and a small hallway overlooking the street below. Vicki’s flat was a studio, meaning the bedroom is also the sitting room, which also doubles as a kitchen, while the attached bathroom looked new with shower attached, which Vicki liked.  She needs to clean herself after work, as she felt dirty and must be showered and scrubbed religiously before bed, each night. The view from her window is an overgrown, weeded backyard, nothing worthy of mention.

The next morning, while Carol enrolled her daughter in a local secondary school, about ten minutes walking distance from her flat, Vicki attended to her financial matters. She managed to secure a post office box and number, near Paddington Station, about fifteen minutes brisk walk, from the station. Her bank account was transferred to the Barkley’s Bank branch near Paddington Station, also for convenience. As usual, Vicki kept all her personal things and documents there, and she carried and kept nothing that would link her to the personal and private P.O. Box. All settled, Vicki scouted their living area and found it to be cosmopolitan. Indians, Chinese, Greeks, Russians, West Indians and also a few English people plus Europeans are around Shepherd’s Bush Market area. Nobody was interested in her and looked as though no one will even spare the time of the day. Vicki preferred it that way, and to be totally indifferent to the surroundings. After two days, all were fully arranged and they also registered with a local General Practitioner  (GP), four streets down, for unforeseen medical attention and consultation. Continuous health is a must in their line of work. Survivability, you know.  

Carol and Vicki supported their local Safeway supermarket on the high street, and stocked necessary food items such as bread, butter, milk, eggs, jams and some ready to eat tins, sauces plus spaghettis and instant noodles. Carol also taught her young daughter, if hungry, to make sandwiches while she is away. After all said and done, it was time to scout and feel the business temperature. They took a tube ride to Leicester Square and checked out the Soho district. They found it to be jam packed with competition, similar to Manchester Piccadilly area but just more intense, and they indentified that other areas imperatively needed to be looked at. They both toured and walked leisurely all around. After much investigation, in the Mayfair area, they found Shepherd Market. Carol and Vicki felt that this is a high class area, full of private clubs, rich foreigner residences, top hotels, offices, embassies and a thriving night life too. This widened their eyes and did a more detailed study of the area in question, which is served by Green Park and Hyde Park Connor tube stations. Shepherd Market looked niche and the competition is not heavy as heavy in Soho district. Vicki and Carol were more interested in quickie businesses and unable give time to long tedious arrangements. In Shepherd Market, they spotted a black girl by the name of Chocolate and had a drink together at the Bull’s Head, discussing business climate and matters relating to their trade.

Carol, Vicki and Chocolate came to an agreement to share a room for their profession in the market, which would work out cheaper for all of them. They found consensus in a third (top) floor room in the market mews, a well-known haunt for men seeking short time enjoyment. The bathroom is on the same level, but to be shared with second floor tenants. They worked out a simple system, whereby should the call bell light be on, signifying vacancy and off means the room is busy. Carol, Vicki and Chocolate, each would have a key to the room. Usage of room should be not more than thirty minutes each session and the room comes with lockers and a mirror, where they can transform themselves into a luscious lady of the night or day, for that matter. They could also use the premises as a changing room before their journey back home.  Chocolate is willing to fork out a bit more, as she also will be working night shifts. This suited Carol and Vicki just fine, their intention is to work from eleven in the morning to seven in the evening, Tuesday to Saturdays, five days a week with Sunday and Mondays off.  Carol cooks a savory meal for Sunday evening dinners, it usually is roasted lamb chops, pork or beef served with two kind of fresh vegetables and spuds. Vicki would share the cost of preparing the meal. Vicki enjoys the long Sunday dinners, it’s the only family atmosphere she had ever known. They would empty pots after pots of tea and horse around with Carol’s daughter, after which joke and laugh through the night watching television. Next day being Monday, their day off also, would get up late and catch up on their washings and housework’s.  For the rest of the week, Vicki will have her Korean instant noodles or baguette with cup soups or spaghettis with ready-made meat sauce, or simply sandwiches with hot tea. She has to maintain her figure, as it’s her selling point and what’s bringing in the bacon. Both would don on their baggy jeans and out of shape jumpers, together with simple hairstyles, that they cannot be recognized as Vicki and Carol, who does the beat around Mayfair and Shepherd Market. They prefer it this way, always keeping their professional and private lives separate. Vicki goes as far as to speak with a cockney accent while soliciting, and leave her Lancashire accent behind.

Both Carol and Vicki would change into their professional outfits on arrival at their third floor room in Shepherd Market, revealing most part of their breasts and sporting a tight dress or skirt is their statement. They would touch up and paint their faces as though going out for a photo shoot, and Vicki would also slip on a blond wig to entice her clients. One thing is to be sure, they do not look or resemble the timid country girls living in Shepherd Bush. They would do their beat together or separately as the business dictates. Their trademark is swinging their keys for the world to see, with their most revealing clothes. During winter, they would wear a long coat with their front open for the men to catch their eyes. In our age of technology, both carry a cell-phone each. They would advertise their services also their telephone numbers pinned onto telephone booths around Mayfair, knowing full well that’s being illegal. Even though, prostitution is legal in the United Kingdom, soliciting in public places is not, they are very much aware of this and would try to step with caution. Vicki normally would entice the likely client to a nearby coffee shop and watch for the owner or waiters reactions. If they happen to be the law, the coffee shop would signal to her and she would not solicit for business. This friendship comes with umpteenth cups of tea patronage at theirs, and after sometime, they know them well and they also know the cafes and shops. It’s you scratch my back and I scratch yours, world.

Lunch is also in the market cafes and cafeterias. With seeing the faces, week in and week out, all would fend for each other backs, business thrives because of people like them also. Fridays are good pickings for the office work force, some would venture after being paid, while others would require their services before proceeding to their homes and wives, after work. Most of the office workers requiring their services are men around fiftyish, seldom or never young men. Maybe their wives are no more able to satisfy their urges, still, none of their businesses. Should you see them on the tube, they are like faultless kittens, would never even hurt a fly. The irony is most shocking. Tuesday to Thursday and Saturdays seems to be mainly foreigners. They are mostly Middle Eastern gentlemen, just letting out their pressures while being away from home. There are some Europeans and a few from the States, but they are mostly one time off guys, just out to taste the flavours of London. Middle Eastern gentlemen on the other hand, would make regular visits, however, they are more of Chocolate’s clients. You see, Arab gentlemen, they have the money.

Vicki is always careful, aware of Aids, Venereal Decease and Herpes, that she carries at least a dozen condoms in her handbag. She first visually inspects before engaging in any business, and careful to be fully protected, and religiously wash afterwards. Bare rides are totally forbidden by her, no matter the amount of cash offered. Her health and staying alive is more important. All other additional are charged according their established tariffs, which they informed the clients in advance. Otherwise, just pump away and be done with, the quicker the better. The main thing is for their cash register to keep ringing all the time. Vicki has been lucky up to now and not been picked up by the police, she also wants to keep it that way, off the record books. She is also aware that according to the laws of averages, she for sure will be hand cuffed up by the long arm of the law, sooner or later. It’s just a matter of time.

Vicki also realized that her profession ages their bodies much faster than normally, and has to think seriously whether it’s about time she gave it up while the going is good, and step back into the real world. Her savings are still not enough to buy a house outright yet, however, for sure much better off than girls from nine to five jobs. This made her smile. During all this time, she has been eyeing the Evening Standard, situation wanted columns, and appeared for a position as caretaker in a housing complex around Kilburn. The pay is pittance compared to her present income, however, it does come with free accommodation on the ground floor with electricity and gas, plus only a five days’ week job. In short, she nailed the job which to start from beginning of the following month. She served her thirty days notice to the Mr. Jinnah, the landlord while her soliciting continued. After their usual Christmas exchange of gifts and gathering between Carol, her daughter and herself, Vicki bids her bye byes for the last time and moved out of her studio flat in Shepherd’s Bush area for good.

The caretaker job starts from 2^nd January as 1^st being a holiday. The position of caretaker is at Templar House at Shoot-Up Hill, which is a multi-floor complex and about a minute walk from Kilburn tube station. Vicki Carter is no more, one chapter closed, dead and buried for good, as far as she is concerned. From henceforth, she is Gladys Lewiston yet once again, no need to hide and is thoroughly happy to be back into the sunshine once again. Gladys’s caretaker apartment is somewhat similar a studio flat, one room serving as bedroom, sitting cum dining room, and kitchen all rolled into one. Beside the cooker, they did supply a tiny fridge, which is nice Gladys thought. The shower and loo room is also attached, even though quite small. Her apartment is beside the main entrance and can also observe the lobby with a single lift. She supposed it must be the reason for having the caretaker room there in the first place.

Gladys job is quite simple. Keep all the common areas clean and to make sure lights are always working in the passageways. Should lights need replacing, just to call the maintenance chaps. As for the lift, she is to call the Lucky Gold Star people. An attachment to an outside telephone line saves her a few bob also. She needs to make sure the rubbish chute area is clean, and must prepare that all the thrown out items are in black plastic bags inside the dustbins, ready for collection by the dustmen in the mornings. It does not take rocket science to do the job. With all that under control, she enjoys her long hot shower before turning in for the night. Her room is central heated and cozy as far as she is concerned. Best of all is, Gladys is able to have a proper night sleep without worrying about the law or anybody else for that matter. Free, free at last.

One day, while she was cleaning the passage way on the forth floor, out came Mr. Brent Shaw from 0405 and spoke to her in an inquisitive manner.

He said, "What in the name is a nice young thing like you working as a caretaker here?"

She smilingly replied, "Security and lodging is important for a girl, don’t you think? "

Mr. Brent Shaw smiled back, locked his door and rushed to the waiting lift.

That late evening, he knocked on her door and asked, "Fancy a late night drink?"

She coolly replied, "It’s late and I’m ready for bed."

End of conversation and subject closed.

Seasons withered and time clocked on by, but they did manage to get quite close.  He would fly out every two weeks or so, as he worked in the offshore oil business. Mr. Brent Shaw would leave his apartment keys with her, so that she can enter and clean the apartment while he is abroad. For that, a small sum is payable to her. During evenings and on weekends, Gladys works for Tesco on Kilburn High Road, thus her three incomes amounted to a tidy little sum, not to mention she was able also to secure Tesco stamps and food at a discount. The money in her deposit account at Barkley’s Bank is growing slowly too. This she never touches, which is meant for real emergencies. Money wise, she is not doing too bad, thank you very much! Gladys has hardly any free time left these days and she prefers it that way, because she needs to be occupied throughout, and any balance time remaining is bedtime only. Now she hardly watches television, but do read newspapers she cleans out from the rubbish bins, when sitting on the throne. Gladys is thinking of trying out the Daily Mail quick crossword one of these days, she believes she should be up to it. 

Mr. Bob Brent Shaw is around forty, single and with no regular girlfriend or boyfriend as far as Gladys can make out. He’s a simple quiet man, keeps to himself, no drinking bouts and on someday listens to classical music. She herself is twenty-five now, and high time to seek for a life’s partner, if she can find one. She does realize that she is not getting any younger, and the profession she had aged her at least by three years, everything takes its toll, no getting round it. Gladys likes Bob and he likes her in return too. She must clear each hurdle and check him out thoroughly, before any drastic decisions. Bob do not care about her past nor does not ask either.

While enjoying a drink one evening in the neighborhood pub, he commented, "There’s something about you that you are not saying, not that I’m inquisitive. Only thing is, as long as you are not on the opposite side of the law or been in prison, I’m okay."

Gladys coolly replied, " No, I’ve never been in prison nor the police are looking for me, either. That’s the god’s honest truth."

Then she continued, "Don’t ask silly questions which does not concern you, and I will tell you no lies."

Bob Brent Shaw liked her Lancashire accent and said, "I may have to move out to Dubai for one or two years, interested?"

Gladys Lewiston need seriously think about his offer while she does not mind older men. This would mean cutting all ties with Golborne, Manchester and London, it sounds rather tempting. Worth thinking seriously, she thought. This would be has to be her million dollar answer. Got to be careful, though.

While curling her glass of orange in her hand, she chuckled and replied, "Are you proposing to me?"