quite definitely changed for the better (or was it the worse?): more furtive and tawdry, more dishonest in its exploitation of the lonely, unloved men who would ever pace the pavements there and occasionally stop like rabbits in the headlights.
Yet Owens appeared far from mesmerized when in the early evening of 7 February he stopped outside Le Club Sexy. The first part of this establishment's name was intended (it must be assumed) to convey that je-ne-sais-quoi quality of Gallic eroticism; yet the other two parts perhaps suggested that the range of the proprietor's French was somewhat limited.
'Lookin' for a bit o' fun, love?'
The heavily mascara'd brunette appeared to be in her early twenties - quite a tall girl in her red high-heels, wearing black stockings, a minimal black skirt, and a low-cut, heavily sequined blouse stretched tightly over a large bosom - largely exposed - beneath the winking light-bulbs.
Deja Vu
And, ever the voyeur, Owens was momentarily aware of all the old weaknesses.
'Come in! Come down and join the fun!'
She took a step towards him and he felt the long, blood-red fingernails curling pleasingly in his palm.
It was a good routine, and one that worked with many and many a man.
One that seemed to be working with Owens.
'How much?'
'Only three-pound membership, that's all. It's a private club, see - know wha' I mean?' For a few seconds she raised the eyes beneath the empurpled lids towards Elysium.
'Is Gloria still here?'
The earthbound eyes were suddenly suspicious - yet curious, too. 'Who?'
'If Gloria's still here, she'll let me in for nothing.' 'Lots o' names 'ere, mistah: real names - stage names
'So what's your name, beautiful?'
'Look, you wanna come in? Three pound - OK?'
'You're not being much help, you know.'
'Why don't you just fuck off?'
'You don't know Gloria?'
'What the 'ell do you want, mate?' she asked fiercely.
His voice was very quiet as he replied. 'I used to live fairly close by. And she used to work here, then - Gloria did. She was a stripper - one of the best in the business, so everybody said.'
For the second time the eyes in their lurid sockets seemed to betray some interest.
'When was that?'
'Twenty-odd years ago.'
'Christ! She must be a bloody granny by now!' 'Dunno. She had a child, though, I know that - a daughter ..
A surprisingly tall, smartly suited Japanese man had been drawn into the magnetic field of Le Club Sexy. 'Come in! Come down and—' 'How much is charge?'
'Only three pound. It's a private club, see - and you gotta be a member.'
With a strangely trusting, wonderfully polite smile, the man took a crisp ten-pound note from his large wallet and handed it to the hostess, bowing graciously as she reached a hand behind her and parted the multicoloured vertical strips which masked from public view the threadbare carpeting on the narrow stairs leading down to the secret delights.
You give me change, please? I give you ten pound.'
'Just tell 'em downstairs, OK?'
'Why you not give me seven pound?'
'It'll be OK-OK?'
'OK'
Halfway down the stairs, the newly initiated member made a little note in a little black book, smiling (we may say) scrutably. He was a member of a Home Office Committee licensing all 'entertainment premises' in the district of Soho.
His expenses were generous: needed to be.
Sometimes he enjoyed his job.
'Don't you ever feel bad about that sort of thing?'
'What d'you mean?'
'He'll never get his change, will he?'
'Like I said, why don't you just fuck off!'
'Gloria used to feel bad sometimes - quite a civilized streak in that woman somewhere. You'd have liked her ... Anyway, if you do come across her, just say you met me, Geoff Owens, will you? She'll remember me - certain to. Just tell her I've got a little proposition for her. She may be a bit down on her luck. You never know these days, and I wouldn't want to think she was on her uppers ... or her daughter was, for that matter.'
'What's her daughter got to do with it?'
Yet Owens appeared far from mesmerized when in the early evening of 7 February he stopped outside Le Club Sexy. The first part of this establishment's name was intended (it must be assumed) to convey that je-ne-sais-quoi quality of Gallic eroticism; yet the other two parts perhaps suggested that the range of the proprietor's French was somewhat limited.
'Lookin' for a bit o' fun, love?'
The heavily mascara'd brunette appeared to be in her early twenties - quite a tall girl in her red high-heels, wearing black stockings, a minimal black skirt, and a low-cut, heavily sequined blouse stretched tightly over a large bosom - largely exposed - beneath the winking light-bulbs.
Deja Vu
And, ever the voyeur, Owens was momentarily aware of all the old weaknesses.
'Come in! Come down and join the fun!'
She took a step towards him and he felt the long, blood-red fingernails curling pleasingly in his palm.
It was a good routine, and one that worked with many and many a man.
One that seemed to be working with Owens.
'How much?'
'Only three-pound membership, that's all. It's a private club, see - know wha' I mean?' For a few seconds she raised the eyes beneath the empurpled lids towards Elysium.
'Is Gloria still here?'
The earthbound eyes were suddenly suspicious - yet curious, too. 'Who?'
'If Gloria's still here, she'll let me in for nothing.' 'Lots o' names 'ere, mistah: real names - stage names
'So what's your name, beautiful?'
'Look, you wanna come in? Three pound - OK?'
'You're not being much help, you know.'
'Why don't you just fuck off?'
'You don't know Gloria?'
'What the 'ell do you want, mate?' she asked fiercely.
His voice was very quiet as he replied. 'I used to live fairly close by. And she used to work here, then - Gloria did. She was a stripper - one of the best in the business, so everybody said.'
For the second time the eyes in their lurid sockets seemed to betray some interest.
'When was that?'
'Twenty-odd years ago.'
'Christ! She must be a bloody granny by now!' 'Dunno. She had a child, though, I know that - a daughter ..
A surprisingly tall, smartly suited Japanese man had been drawn into the magnetic field of Le Club Sexy. 'Come in! Come down and—' 'How much is charge?'
'Only three pound. It's a private club, see - and you gotta be a member.'
With a strangely trusting, wonderfully polite smile, the man took a crisp ten-pound note from his large wallet and handed it to the hostess, bowing graciously as she reached a hand behind her and parted the multicoloured vertical strips which masked from public view the threadbare carpeting on the narrow stairs leading down to the secret delights.
You give me change, please? I give you ten pound.'
'Just tell 'em downstairs, OK?'
'Why you not give me seven pound?'
'It'll be OK-OK?'
'OK'
Halfway down the stairs, the newly initiated member made a little note in a little black book, smiling (we may say) scrutably. He was a member of a Home Office Committee licensing all 'entertainment premises' in the district of Soho.
His expenses were generous: needed to be.
Sometimes he enjoyed his job.
'Don't you ever feel bad about that sort of thing?'
'What d'you mean?'
'He'll never get his change, will he?'
'Like I said, why don't you just fuck off!'
'Gloria used to feel bad sometimes - quite a civilized streak in that woman somewhere. You'd have liked her ... Anyway, if you do come across her, just say you met me, Geoff Owens, will you? She'll remember me - certain to. Just tell her I've got a little proposition for her. She may be a bit down on her luck. You never know these days, and I wouldn't want to think she was on her uppers ... or her daughter was, for that matter.'
'What's her daughter got to do with it?'
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