Scarlet Woman

Inspired by The Secret Diary of A Call Girl


That woman, on the far right, sitting by the bar stool next to the man in a business suit? She's a hooker. Probably charges by the night. I'm guessing about £300 each nightly rendezvous.

How would I know?

For one thing, the shade of her lipstick is too dark- as if though it's supposed to last through the night. Her lower back is showing in her dress… so is her lower cleavage… and her collarbone… and her thigh for that matter… ultimately, she's showing too much skin, all at once. You see, when she laughs, she'd put a hand on the man's thigh- ah, there she goes. A prostitute's ultimate goal is to satisfy a man's desire- it just depends on how you do it. Now the woman is going for the prowl a bit too early, meaning she has less experience and she doesn't know how to properly teach a man to wait.

Ah, the hand is going too far up.

Stop.

Stop!

Bloody hell.

She might as well go give him a blow job while she's at it.

My name is Ginny Weasley, and I'm a high end escort named Scarlet, or prostitute, if you interpret it that way. You can call me many things- a courtesan, prostitute, hooker, whore, slut, whatever floats your boat. But by the end of the day, we do things no matter where we work, all because of one thing: money.

I live money. I breathe money. I love money. I love my clients' money.

I'm a professional. No, not like a skank like that woman on the right. I handle my business quietly, and I handle my business well. Now, good prostitutes knows what to do, when to do it, when to stop, and all the stuff to keep our men happy. It is our job to satisfy them, isn't it?

Now, being a high class prostitute, means I charge beautifully by the hour. £500 an hour. But I'm off at 2AM to 7AM… don't try calling me then.

I have an agent. She doesn't say her name, and she doesn't know my real name. Either way, me being hooker and her being my pimp is strictly business only. She calls me up at an hour's notice, explain their name, age, job, and where I'd have to meet them. Some girls simply gets their clients to meet them at their own home, which by the way, is unsafe and unprofessional in so many ways. By inviting them to your home, you're welcoming them to your personal life- which is a big no-no in the industry of sex marketing. I would know.

Ah- that would be her right now.

"Hello?" I asked promptly, standing up away from my seat. I smoothed out my Chanel business suit and gave one last look at the poor example of prostitute one last time, before slipping a pair of shades on and heading out the door, "Pippi?"

"I've got a client for you within the next two hours. Sounded like a nice chap. His name's Marcus Flint, age 24 years, lives off of his rich parents who works at the Ministry. The appointed location would be Hog's Head. You near there?" Pippi asked on the other side. Now I've never seen her face before, but judging by the sound of her voice, the lady boss must've made loads of money as a sex phone operator. Her voice was dripping with seduction, even though she wasn't trying.

"Yeah, I'll get ready for it right now." I said, before closing the phone on her and turning the corner to an alley way in Muggle London.

As a call girl, you have to be fast, quick, flexible, and spontaneous.

As soon as I Apparated into my penthouse, I headed towards my open closet and pulled out a sassy navy blue strapless dress, and hung it in my bathroom door. Bubble baths would be a luxury thing to do, but whenever I meet a client, they would never be on my to-do list before I meet them. Frankly because bubble baths takes more time for preparation, and needs the same amount of time to enjoy. Instead, I opted for the usual cold shower and pulled on my dress. Make up and primping was never my favourite pastime, but they would be a must to completely transform me from the secretary of the Yugoslavian Ministry for Magic's Auror Department, Ginny Weasley (like how all my friends and family know me as), to the vixen Scarlet who charges by the hour.

No, I'm not a secretary of the Yugoslavian Ministry for Magic's Auror Department.

I just thought it would be a good cover up so my mother wouldn't hassle me about being jobless (since, you know, a 'high class' prostitute isn't exactly the fanciest job title one can ever have). And being a mere secretary should be boring enough to keep curious noses out of the door. For Merlin's sakes, I don't even know how Yugoslavia looks like!

With my hair curled, a layer of a make up reinforced, and the dress that drips 'flirty' and doesn't scream 'slutty' fitted on, I Apparated into Hog's Head.

And there he was, Marcus Flint. I recognized the bloody bloke from Hogwarts, a few years back. God, he was ugly then, and a couple of years didn't do much good to him either. Anyhow, £500 an hour is quite the sweetie… who could deny its call?

I slid on the seat next to Flint, and purred subtly, "Marcus Flint."

He turned around and looked at me, his eyes brightening up and his familiar crooked smile donned on his lips, "Scarlet, pleasure to meet you."

"Well then," I said quickly, to avoid suspicion from the onlookers, and hastily ordered a glass of whiskey (for show, call girls never ever drink when they're on their job), "uh, can I-?"

"Oh, right, right." Marcus said quickly, pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the table.

I swiftly swept it into my bag, and gave a brighter, cheerier smile. "Pleasure to have business with you, let's get started, shouldn't we?"

Oh yes, an easy £500 for an hour sounds like heaven to my ears.


a note from the author: I'm taking a small break from writing Of Business and Pleasure, and I've taken an interest on this new Fanficion Scarlet Woman, inspired by a racy television show I watched... I swear, its not porn. Anyway, Draco Malfoy should be making an appearance in a few chapters or so, but I'm wondering... if there might be some Of Business and Pleasure Ginny&Adrian shippers out there, should I add Adrian Pucey as a client to the story? You know, just for fun? (: PLEASE REVIEW.