Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 10

Sasha looked around and sighed. It wasn't the room; it was a lovely room in a great house on one of Chelsea's prettiest back streets. In fact, the prospect of landing a room here was the only reason she put up with sleeping with her face pushed up against a muddy tyre. The only reason, if she was honest, she put up with nights out with Caroline and her giggly friends when she could be socialising with the girls from the agency. But her mother was right: how was she going to pay the rent when she wasn't earning a penny?

'This house is a bargain for Chelsea,' said Caroline.

Sasha caught a flicker of something on her friend's face. Sympathy? G.o.d, was it pity? It was fine for Caroline, with her rich parents who had pulled strings to get her a job in publis.h.i.+ng. It was a cla.s.sic holding job for a pretty socialite, something to keep her busy until she inevitably met someone rich enough to marry. That was where she and Caroline differed. Caroline would be happy to settle for a husband called Jonty and the odd long weekend in Klosters. Sasha wanted the world and she wasn't going to settle for anything less. Suddenly she was filled with purpose: she knew what she had to do.

She pulled on a clingy Ozbek tunic that stopped at the top of her thighs. She didn't bother with a skirt; instead she pulled on silver tights and her black patent heels, adding smoky eyes and pale beige lips. The look was bold and striking, like Daryl Hannah in Bladerunner Bladerunner.

'Wow! s.e.xy,' said Caroline.

'That's the idea,' she said. 'Come on, I've got somewhere to take you.'

They walked on to King's Road and flagged a taxi. Sasha leant in to the driver and told him the address.

'I thought the party was in Notting Hill?' said Caroline.

'There's been a change of plan.'

'Ooh, I like surprises,' said Caroline. 'Will there be boys there?'

'That, also, is the idea.' Sasha smiled.They pulled up outside The Emba.s.sy Club, the place Sasha had overheard the secretaries at D&D gossiping about. The queue for the agency's Christmas party was long and boisterous, but Sasha wasn't fazed, striding up to the doorman and giving him the benefit of her widest smile.

'He's got our tickets,' said Sasha, waving towards the queue vaguely.'But it's cold out here.' She smiled, touching his chest suggestively. He unhooked the velvet rope and waved her through.

'Have we just gatecrashed someone's office party?' whispered Caroline.

'Oh no,' smiled Sasha, taking in the leery gazes of half a dozen men in expensive suits. 'They definitely want us here.'

Sasha had been to dozens of Christmas parties in the past few weeks and had noticed that gatherings in the festive period had a particular energy, almost as if people had been freed from their usual roles and were allowed, for one night at least, to go wild. The D&D party was no different, with dozens of young women in short dresses and too much make-up eyeing up powerful-looking men with slick haircuts. The atmosphere was buoyed by alcohol, drugs and particularly the undercurrent of s.e.x.

'I've got a good feeling about tonight,' said Sasha as Caroline headed off to the bar.

They have to be in here somewhere, she thought, scanning the crowd carefully. She glanced at her watch anxiously; she could imagine that a ball-breaker like the Benson account director would still be in the office, getting ahead of her male counterparts by clocking up overtime. she thought, scanning the crowd carefully. She glanced at her watch anxiously; she could imagine that a ball-breaker like the Benson account director would still be in the office, getting ahead of her male counterparts by clocking up overtime.

'Hey, great dress,' said a voice behind her.

Sasha turned to see a woman with sleek blond hair smoking a cigarette.

'Actually it's a top,' she said cautiously.

She looked at the blonde more closely. Now she could see that the woman was stylish and actually quite striking, with almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones. Handsome rather than beautiful, but still, she had the look of an ex-model.

'Do you work in fas.h.i.+on?' she asked.

'Sort of.' The woman smiled. 'Do you?'

Sasha shrugged. 'Yes, I'm with Elan Models.'

'Well, you really have great personal style. Most people would look like Metal Mickey in that outfit, but you look ... futuristic. Like a s.e.xy robot.'

Sasha narrowed her eyes. Was this woman hitting on her?

The blonde laughed and stubbed out her cigarette. 'Sorry,' she said, holding out a hand. 'Venetia James. I'm a clothes bore, I'm afraid.'

'Sasha Sinclair. What do you do at D&D?'

'I'm freelance. I had a job on one of their commercials yesterday and they invited me to this. I'm a stylist.'

'A stylist?' said Sasha, looking at her with more interest. 'You mean like a fas.h.i.+on editor?'

'Kind of. Except I don't work for a magazine. I used to, though, for Vogue Vogue.'

'Wow!' said Sasha, letting her pose of bored indifference drop. 'I bet it was amazing!'

Venetia smiled sadly. 'You'd think so, wouldn't you? b.l.o.o.d.y hard work and I earned a pittance. Didn't have a trust fund or rich boyfriend like most of them.'

'So what do you now?' Sasha asked, intrigued.

'Catwalk, editorial, record company promos, lots of commercial stuff. Catalogues pay the most, even though I wouldn't dream of telling anyone I work for them. I've got a few personal clients as well. My workload is getting crazy. Actually, you should think about styling, you've obviously got a good eye.'

'Thanks,' said Sasha, 'but I do think I am just one break away from a big modelling career.'

Venetia smiled kindly. 'That's what I said ten years ago.' She grinned and reached into her bag. 'Let me give you my card anyway. You never know when our paths might cross. When I might need an a.s.sistant. You really do have a great look.'

Sasha thanked the woman and moved into the crowd. It was always good to make new contacts, but she was still keen to track down the Venus executive. She felt sure she'd screwed up the audition and would do whatever it took to remedy the situation.

'Well, well, well,' said an amused man to her left. 'I didn't know we'd had D&D staff auditioning to be the ice-cream girl.'

At first Sasha didn't recognise him he wasn't wearing his John Lennon gla.s.ses and had swapped the turtleneck for a blue s.h.i.+rt. She breathed a sigh of relief: it was the art director from the casting.

'You,' she said.

He grinned. 'I don't why you're so surprised, I work at D&D, remember?'

'And I'm here with a friend,' said Sasha vaguely.

'Remind me of your name ...'

She felt a pang of disappointment. Surely she must have left some impression?

'Sasha Sinclair. And you are?'

'Martin Newsome.'

'Well, Martin Newsome,' said Sasha as she shook his hand, 'I think my agency are expecting to hear from you about my recall.'

'So you think it went well?' He grinned.

She smiled coquettishly. 'You tell me.'

'Kim and I are talking it over tomorrow. There'll be a recall on Monday.'

'And am I going to be hearing from you?' she pressed. She knew she should be playing it cool, but she couldn't face another night on Caroline's camp bed.

'We'll see. Shall we go somewhere a bit quieter?'

She nodded, and allowed herself to be led towards the back of the club, where topless men wearing sashes of gla.s.ses handed out vodka shots.

Martin summoned a waitress. 'Champagne,' he commanded.

Nervously, Sasha threw back her flute in one go.

Laughing, Martin waved the waitress back. 'Better give her another,' he said.

Emboldened by the alcohol she'd had three gla.s.ses of wine at Caroline's and all on a permanently empty stomach she met his gaze.

'Well, if you want my opinion, I think your script is a bit stupid.'

'Really?' he said with surprise.

'Well, not stupid. Just wrong. I mean, my agent said it was a premium product, which means Benson are going to be charging a lot for it. You want something s.e.xier.'

's.e.xier?' said Martin, raising an eyebrow.

'I just think chocolicious sounds a bit cheesy. You should be saying something like "Venus ice cream. My guilty pleasure."'

He gave her a wolfish smile. 'I like the sound of the pleasure part.'

'Please, just call me back,' she said. 'If Kim doesn't like me, let me meet the Benson marketing director.'

She hated the desperation in her voice. This wasn't Sasha Sinclair the confident a.s.s-kicking b.i.t.c.h who ruled the roost at Danehurst. But something had changed in her since she'd arrived in London and she felt she was down to her last roll of the dice. She couldn't go back to that semi in Esher, she just couldn't.

'Listen, Sasha, it needs the marketing director's sign-off, but they are pretty much following our lead.'

'So what are you going to recommend?'

'That we steer away from those stick-insect models. I think we need someone a bit s.e.xier.'

'Like me?'

'Depends if you can do s.e.xy.' He touched her b.u.m and pushed her towards a corridor.

'Where are we going?'

'In here,' he said, holding open the door to the bathroom and leading her towards a cubicle.

Sasha felt her heart lurch. She knew that ad agencies were awash with cocaine, but she didn't take drugs. A lot of the other agency girls did; they said it kept the weight off. Locking the door behind them, Martin tipped some white powder on to the cistern and snorted it through a rolled-up twenty-pound note. Politely she refused his offer of a white line and, shrugging, he took hers too. Then he leant in close, his breath hot on her neck.

'Show me if you can do s.e.xy,' he whispered.

She met him directly in the eyes. 'If I show you, will I get the Venus contract?'

'I think we can safely say we can make this happen.'

She felt a flicker of dread. His fingers played with the zip of his trousers until his c.o.c.k and sprouts of black hair like spider's legs sprang free. It was not a pretty sight. Then again, they never were.

She hesitated.

'Come on, Sasha. I only need a little bit of persuasion.'

Taking a breath, she dropped to her knees on the cold ceramic floor.

You can do this, she told herself. she told herself. You're good at this. You're good at this.

She held the base of his shaft, then ran her tongue slowly, so slowly, along the sensitive underside of his c.o.c.k.

'Oh G.o.d,' he moaned. 'Yes, yes.'

Closing her eyes, she took him whole in her mouth. He tasted sour. She thought of her small bedroom in Esher, then thought of herself on television. On the cover of Vogue Vogue. Life was full of choices, and she was making one now.

'Jesus, yes,' he groaned, pulling her head towards him until the tip of his c.o.c.k hit the back of her throat. She tried not to gag.

'Yesssss ...'

He slumped against the cubicle wall and Sasha pulled a wad of tissue from the dispenser to wipe a small white stain that had made its way on to her Ozbek top.

'Oh yes,' panted Martin. 'You can definitely do s.e.xy.'

Sasha got up off her knees, looked at him, and then unlocked the door. 'I look forward to hearing from you on Monday,' she said and walked out into the party.

She immediately spotted Caroline draped over a rugby-player type in a badly fitting suit.

'Come on,' she said, peeling her off the protesting beefcake.'We're going.'

'What's happened?' asked her friend.

'Mission accomplished,' said Sasha, forcing a smile.Sasha woke up on the camp bed cold and stiff as usual; but this morning, there was a spring in her step and a new sense of purpose. Caroline and her flatmates had already left for work, so she jumped in the shower, then towelled herself dry as she walked through to the kitchen. She smiled to herself as she opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice labelled Jennifer. She was looking forward to living here, and when she did, the fridge would be full of oysters and champagne.

Dressing quickly but carefully, she ran out into the street and throwing caution to the wind flagged down a cab, giving the driver the address of her agency in Covent Garden. What the h.e.l.l What the h.e.l.l, she thought happily, I'll be able to afford it soon. I'll be able to afford it soon.

She strode into the reception area. 'Hi, Sasha Sinclair to see Hilary.'

'Are you going to come in every day?' Hilary Covington, Sasha's booker, smiled as she walked in. 'You can just call. And you know I'll ring you if anything comes up.'

'I had to come in today. I have news,' said Sasha boldly. 'I saw Martin Newsome for D&D at a party last night. He said I was fantastic and that they were going to send me to see the client, although he seemed pretty confident I was the only one they were interested in.'

Hilary flicked through her call sheet. 'Well I haven't heard from him,' she replied. 'What was the name again?'

'Martin Newsome,' replied Sasha. 'He works with Kim on the Benson account.'