The moronic music Jangled at her again, seeming interminable.
lt was the next day. She returned to being a cowgirl.
This time, Teresa waited passively at the back of Shandy's mind, while the young woman went with remarkably spontaneous excitement through the explicit but now predictable motions of making the video.
When the cameras had stopped, and Shandy and Willem were collecting the various pieces of their discarded costumes, Teresa deliberately moved forward in Shandy's consciousness. She spoke to Willem, and tried setting up a date with him. Willem spoke only a little English, but Teresa/Shandy pestered him until he agreed to meet her
outside f
ri
utsi
or a d ink.
Shandy walked naked towards the shower cubicle in the corridor behind the set, clutching the tiny costume against herself Teresa loved the way the young woman's body felt from inside: she seemed to glow with healthy relish from the series of convulsing orgasms she had gone through, and she walked with an easy grace. A couple of the men who worked behind the cameras grinned at her as she went by.
Once she was inside the shower cubicle with the door closed, her demeanour changed. She spat dramatically on the floor of the shower, growling in her throat, clearing herself out. She put her lips to the coldwater tap, drank a quantity of the water, then swilled some of it around her mouth. She gargled three or four times. When she was showering she washed herself thoroughly, using soapy fingers to clean the parts of her body Willem had penetrated, and lathering herself energetically where he had jetted his seed on to her skin.
* * * SENSH * * *
She took her street clothes from a locker outside the shower, and dressed quickly. She put on light makeup: a little eyeliner, a touch of blush, no lipstick. After a final look in a mirror she went to meet Willem.
Outside, Teresa found they were in London. She was immediately struck by the details: especially the noise, the crowds, the traffic, the red buses, the advertising signs, the dismal weather, the overall sense of minutiae beyond the strictly essential.
Willem led her to a pub in nearby Rupert Street, and sat by himself at an unoccupied table while she went to the bar to order drinks. He had asked for a Dutch imported beer called Oranjeboom, which for some reason made Shandy laugh. She softly hummed a jingle while she waited to be served. The barman knew her and obviously liked her, and between serving other customers chatted to her about someone they both knew; Shandy apparently had a number of jobs around the West End, working for clubs and escort agencies, and in hotels.
Teresa, fascinated by this glimpse into the young woman's life, lost interest in Willem and listened instead to Shandy talking about the people who owed her money, the man (boyfriend? pimp?) who seemed to control her, the hardships she sometimes had to endure, the late nights, the harassment she received from the police, and most of all the problem of her elderly mother, who lived in the Midlands. Her mother was having trouble with a disability allowance that was being reduced by some interpretation of the rules, and which might mean she would have to move to London to live with her daughter. Shandy's apartment wasn't big enough for two, so she would have to move.
SENSH
Teresa thought, This is real! This is Shandy's life! 1 could stay here in her mind, follow her around, see how she lives, what she eats, where she sleeps.
She glanced back at Willem, who was still sitting at the table, waiting for her to return with the drinks, apparently stranded by her lack of interest in him.
The barman slipped Shandy a scrap of paper with a phone number written on it, and she took out her bag, found a diary and placed the piece of paper between its pages. just as Shandy was about to return the diary to her bag, Teresa
decided to have a look at it, and laid it on the counter. She flipped through the pages.
Shandy's real name was Jennifer Rosemary Tayler, Teresa discovered from the first page, where the young woman had filled in her personal details in disarmingly childish handwriting. She had an apartment in London NW10. The entries in the diary the year was 1990, which Teresa wouldn't have known otherwise were mostly phone numbers and amounts of money; on a whim, Teresa led Shandy across to the call box on the wall by the entrance to the toilets, and dialled one of the numbers.
* * * SENSH * * *
A man with a foreign accent answered, and Shandy said, reasserting herself, 'Is that Hossein?
Hi, it's Shan ... Listen, I'm at the Plume of Feathers in Rupert Street. Know where 1 mean? 1
wondered if you'd got anything for me?' A long silence followed, before Hossein said, 'You call me back at ten. 1 work something out.' Shandy said, 'OK,' and hung up. She went back to the counter, and wrote the time in her diary.
Willem was still at the table, patiently waiting. Teresa decided to leave him there, and left the pub. She walked back down Rupert Street to where it Joined Coventry Street.
To one side was an open space bounded by large buildings, full of trees and pedestrians: Leicester Square, she dredged up from Shandy's mind. In the other direction was Piccadilly Circus, which Teresa had not realized was so close. With all the curiosity of a tourist Teresa walked down that way, gawping at the sights. She stared at the statue of Eros for a few moments, then decided she would like to see where Shandy lived, so she walked across to the nearest entrance to the Underground station. She ran down the stairs, Shandy's steeltipped stiletto heels clattering on the
metal steps. At the bottom of the stairs was a brick wall. Shandy stared at it for a moment, then returned to street level.
