Fiona was reluctant at first, but she gave in eventually. She had to eat, didn't she? So we made a plan, and out she went to find a punter. My job was to hide in the living room until they'd finished whatever it was they had to do. Only if there was trouble would she call for me. Then I'd come in and sort it out.
The first punter didn't make any bother, and neither did the second. But the third was a nasty piece of work. Sure enough, Fiona called for me, and in I went. I put on my most innocent face, and the famous smile. I just smiled at this big tough guy, like butter wouldn't melt. And sure enough he couldn't take it, he left sharpish. What it was, I think, is that the punters just couldn't think about sex or violence, not whilst there was a kid in the bedroom. Does that make sense?
Anyway, it worked. I made a load of money that night, more than I'd ever seen before. It was part of the deal, you see.
She introduced me to some of the other girls, and I would do specials for them, if they had to see punters that had caused trouble in the past. I tell you, nobody caused trouble when the young boy turned up. Eventually I was looking after nine different girls, which was neat but involved a lot of juggling. We decided that all the difficult punters had to come to Fiona's flat, so Fiona became what she called a madame, which is French, isn't it? Me, I just stayed in the flat, going out at night sometimes, for air. I wasn't needed all that often, because most of the punters behaved themselves. But I was always there for them, the girls that is, if they ever needed any help.
Fiona and the other girls were so used to me, they more or less walked around naked when I was there, as though I wasn't there. I'd do drawings of them sometimes, in various states of undress. They made nice shapes. The only rule we had was that I would never get to see them actually doing it, the sex I mean. Anyway, I didn't want to.
Of course it all had to go wrong, and that's what I'll tell in the final part of my confessions, which you can read in tomorrow's paper.
I had the police looking for me still. I'd see my face on television, and read about how I'd gone missing in the newspaper. But it wasn't the police that finished my career. And
Dutch, he found out about what I was up to with his sister. He came round one time, saw me there, and when I told him the story, boasted about it, well, the look on his face was worth everything. Not even Dutch could top a scheme like this. But it wasn't Dutch that finished my career, he kept quiet about it, his sister made him promise.
Melvin, Fiona's old pimp, had been thrown into prison for beating up some bloke in the pub. Beat him up something terrible I heard, so it wasn't him that finished my career, he was out of the picture.
No, it was me that finished my career as a Junior Pimp.
It was a quiet night, a Tuesday. Fiona and I were in the flat alone, the other girls not needing me that night. Fiona didn't want to go out, she said, because nothing ever happened on a Tuesday. I said that she had to, because I was the boss, wasn't I? It was just a game between us in a way, but she really was treating me like her boss by then, she usually followed orders. We were sitting in her bedroom, with her lounging on the bed and me in the armchair. She was still in her scruffs, so I ordered her to get changed into something sexy, she had some outrageous gear, let me tell you. She stood up and pulled off her T-shirt, and then undid her jeans, rolled them down her legs. I was just sitting there watching her, thinking maybe I should get my sketchbook out, when something happened to me.
Do I have to spell it out? I hope it's all right to say the word erection in a family newspaper. Anyway, that's what happened, I got an erection. I got excited. I slid down the chair to hide it, but the more that Fiona dolled herself up, the bigger it grew. She looked over at me, saw something was wrong, and asked me what it was. I said, nothing, get ready. But then I said, no, don't get ready, let's just watch tele tonight, it's a Tuesday, nothing ever happens on a Tuesday. But she wouldn't listen, said that she'd got ready now, she wasn't going to waste it, no way.
So she went out to find a punter.
I was left alone in the flat. I was thinking about what had happened, trying to understand. I was tempted to get it out, my thingy I mean, but I didn't. I was scared, wasn't I? Scared of what might happen. Would I still be able to protect her now, with a stiffy in my pants? Anyway, eventually I heard Fiona coming back up the stairs, so I slipped into the living room, as usual. I heard her going along the corridor to her bedroom. It was quiet out there, no talking. Some punters are like that, they don't like talking.
So I waited as I always did, trying to read a little, but my mind couldn't stop imagining what was going on behind the wall. And the more I imagined, the worse it got, my excitement I mean. All these dirty pictures flashing through my head like a cinema show. Adults only.