here—and my age was listed as between thirty and forty. They named the area I lived in. My phone number was there with a description of myself and what I would do for money, which made my eyes nearly pop out of my head. Next to my name was a photo of a woman’s naked body. Her face was hidden in a pillow. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t anything like me, apart from her having shoulder-length dark hair.
And you know there were a few comments underneath, where they rated me. They said that I was a slut, that I wanted it but wouldn’t deliver, that I messed people around. Yet the calls had continued. What kind of review would there have to be to make someone resist making that call?
My phone started to ring again. It was from a withheld number. It gave me the creeps to think it was someone who was on that site at the same time as me, looking at that photo and my apparent wish list, and ignoring the bad reviews. Maybe it was someone who thought I should be punished for not treating the punters well. Quickly I rejected the call.
I searched on the site and eventually found an e-mail address for the webmaster. It took ten minutes; he really didn’t want to be found. I sent a short snappy e-mail promising legal action if my number wasn’t deleted immediately.
Then I copied the image next to my name and did a reverse image search on Google, but nothing showed up. I sat back, confused. The men who’d called me were the least of my worries, really. They had no idea where I lived and now that I had the whistle I could get rid of them easily. It was the person who’d posted my details that I was concerned about. Who had done that? Why would anyone do that?
I wondered then whether my name was on other sites. Maybe my address was on them! “I can come round to yours,” the man had said. Did he know where I lived?
I jumped up and went to the window, pulling the curtains shut. As I did so I could see in the distance two men walking down the road in the direction of my flat.
I froze. Were they coming here?
I had no reason to think they would but the way they walked, with such a determined air, frightened me. As they came near to the edge of the row of shops I reached out and turned the lamp off and, holding a curtain to one side, peeped out. In darkness I watched as they walked past, with no hesitation or glance toward my flat, and continued on down the street.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief. My heart was thudding and I put the lamp back on and slumped onto the sofa.
Who had put my name on that site? I sat in the quiet room thinking who it might be. My age was in the right category. The woman in the photo was a brunette, just as I am. I thought of the calls I’d had—there’d been well over a hundred by now—and shuddered.
Again I regretted not having a bottle of wine in the fridge, but knew it wouldn’t really help. This was something I had to do on my own. I poured a glass of water with shaky hands and went back into the living room. I was afraid to play music or watch a movie on my laptop in case I didn’t hear someone knock or call my name. Someone wanting to pay me for sex.
I couldn’t read. Couldn’t focus. I just sat curled up on that sofa, careful to avoid the dip that made my back ache, and tried to think who might have done this to me.
CHAPTER 41
Ruby
When the agency in Chester had told me the job was basic, they really did mean it. After a few days, I thought I was going mad.
I turned up on Thursday morning, wearing a smart dress, and found the other admin staff looking hostile. They were a lot younger than I was and dressed more casually. One wore shorts and flip-flops and I don’t think I saw her do any work in all