Free Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing by Gabrielle Lord Page A

we can meet at the safe house and I’ll lend you the right stuff.’
    She dropped her cigarette over the balcony coping and Gemma stepped back inside with her.
    ‘I’d better shake a leg,’ said Shelly. ‘I’ve got a client in less than an hour.’
    ‘But you’re retired!’
    ‘I have. This is legit. I’m working as a sex surrogate.’
    ‘Shelly, be serious.’
    ‘I am, sweetie. It’s all legit. This guy could claim it on his health insurance if he had the right cover. He was referred to me by these two counsellors who do couples’ therapy,’ Shelly continued as they headed towards the lift. ‘It’s the truth,’ she said, noticing the look on Gemma’s face. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die. Two of us work for them. They trained us. Stop looking like that,’ she protested. ‘They brief us on what should and shouldn’t happen each session, depending on the client. As us girls know,’ she said after some reflection, ‘there’s a a lot more to sex than just sticking it in.’
    They waited for the lift, watching the little red light slowly make its way towards their level.
    ‘The counsellors taught us these breathing techniques and we don’t have sex with the client until we’re instructed. It’s just work to me, but’—here Shelly raised her neat eyebrows—sweetie, this guy sure needed help. I suppose I always thought men were just lousy lovers when they bought it and didn’t have to bother. The first time we had sex I asked him what he did with his wife, to demonstrate to me. I just wanted to know, you know?’
    ‘And?’ Gemma asked.
    Shelly shook her head. ‘Sweetie. It was woeful. Pitiful.’
    The lift arrived and the doors opened. Shelly continued, quite unfazed by the other passengers.
    ‘His idea of good lovemaking was to stick it in, wiggle it around a bit, come in thirty seconds and dribble on my neck.’
    They stepped into the lift and turned round to face the closing doors.
    ‘I said to him: Is that it ? Is that how you make love to your wife?’
    The silence in the lift was palpable.
    ‘After that,’ Shelly said, ‘I was very happy to follow the program the counsellors had given me, the breathing and the massage and such. He needed a lot of education, I can tell you. A lot of feedback. But do you know what he said? His wife never tells him anything. About sex, what she`likes, I mean. Not once. She just lies there in silence. Can you believe that?’
    Gemma stared down a particularly shocked woman who’d deliberately engaged her eyes in a power struggle.
    ‘It’s good money,’ said Shelly, ‘and it’s nice to pass on what I’ve learned. I feel I’m actually doing something even more beneficial than my old trade. He’s only going to need a few more sessions.’
    ‘Shelly, you are an amazing woman. What does Kosta think of your professional work?’
    Shelly shrugged. ‘He’s out of town just now. He never knows what I’m doing.’
    Gemma became aware that a woman was quietly weeping into a tissue in one corner. Everyone pretended not to notice, including Gemma, and by the time they’d reached the foyer level, her focus was back to her line of inquiry. The lift doors opened.
    ‘What about the car used in the attack on Robyn?’ she asked, pulling out her notebook as they stepped out and walked over to where two chairs and a pot plant made a quiet corner in the large reception area.
    ‘Robyn’s friend took down the rego number and the police went and talked to the bloke. Reckons the car was stolen yesterday.’
    ‘He would,’ said Gemma. ‘Did you get his name?’
    ‘You bet I did,’ said Shelly grimly. ‘I’ve still got a friend or two in the cops. But he doesn’t match the descriptions from the other two attacks.’
    Gemma knew that sex workers circulated their own information about ‘ugly mug’ customers who’d frightened or endangered them. Girls in the safe houses and the well-run legal parlours were reasonably safe, unless the man was a