ALEX IN WONDERLAND I wandered through Soho until I got to the brothel where Sarah worked. I had an idea about an album cover gig and I knew Sarah would be into it. She'd get paid to dress up and that was always better than getting paid to be naked. The door opened and there was Marie wearing a bathrobe and wet hair before I could even ring the bell. She looked calm enough but I knew something was wrong for her to be on her way out half naked. She had trainers on her feet and a purse in the bathrobe pocket but that was it. She looked surprised to see me standing there. "Sarah is having a bad day. I think she just killed someone." "Killed someone?" "She says it was an accident but I'm having nothing to do with it." "She killed someone?" "Probably. There's a lot of blood. I don't know. I'm going over to Gram's until it's sorted." "I'd better get up there then." "She'll be glad to see you. She talks about you a lot you know." I knew. Marie walked past me and headed for Gram's place on Dean Street. This was London; a whore in a bathrobe was just part of the scenery. I went up the stairs closing the door behind me. The place smelled of scented talcum powder so the place smelled like Sarah. Betty stood on the first landing. She watched me come up the stairs and smiled when I got to the top. She was framed in the kitchen doorway with a glass of orange juice in her hand. Not only orange juice. Betty was the person who answered the phone and described the girls to the punters. She had worked here years ago and now almost ran the place. Almost. "Sarah killed somebody?" "Something like that," Betty said. Sarah's voice called sown from the second set of stairs: "Is that Alex?" I walked up the stairs and there she was. She was naked apart from the blood. It was smeared across her stomach and stained her pubic hair, ran down her legs and covered her hands. "That time of the month again?" "Stop being a prick and come and help me get this bastard fuck out of here." Her accent seemed to get less thick by the day. I followed her into the second bedroom. "Shouldn't we be ringing for an ambulance? Maybe one of those paramedics on a bike, I've got some photos I need couriering across to the Isle of Dogs anyway." "Stop being a pain. I have no intention of calling anyone. No one." He was slumped at the foot of the bed, face down and naked. This was my day for naked people. Sarah I could handle but this guy looked like Orson Welles from around the time he was doing adverts for fish fingers. Not a pretty sight. His head was covered in blood but the rest of him was pasty white apart from the hairy red balls I could see squashed beneath him. They squeezed out like plums and I had to resist the urge to stand on them to see if they'd split. "Do you keep a hammer beside the pillow these days?" A roll of the eyes and she pointed to the bedding box in which were kept the tools of the trade. "He banged his head on that thing when I kicked him off the bed. I told him no anal twice. Didn't stop him having a go though." She sighed, " �and you know what I'm like when I get pissed off." I knew. The dirty bastard was lucky she hadn't held onto his dick before kicking him off the bed. I looked down at the white lump that he had become. Not that lucky. There was a nasty gash in his balding head and blood had run over his hairy shoulders and down his back. There were hand prints where Sarah had tried to grab a hold of him. "Where's Sam?" I asked. Sam was the woman who actually ran the place. The house worked as a cooperative but Sam held the reigns and the deeds to the place. She was going to be pissed to find out about Orson here. "She's not here," Betty said from behind me. She had brought up two mugs of coffee. I liked Betty. You could always rely on her in a crisis. Taking the mug I found a dry spot on the bed and sat down. Sarah sipped her drink standing up, Orson carried on lying between us as Betty went back down the stairs to answer the phone. I suspected that business was over for the day. "So what's the plan?" Before she could answer Orson rolled himself over onto his back and gasped in a huge lungful of air. This was followed by a bellow of pain as the contents of Sarah's startled coffee mug soaked into his groin. "Well that's one less problem then," I said as I rose from the bed and swallowed down the last of my own drink. Orson was now clasping his scalded cock and curling up like a slug in salt. Poor bastard. Walks in off the street for an hour of slit stuffing and ends up covered in blood, with a hole in his head and a burnt coffee coloured undercarriage. Still, he was lucky he didn't wake up in the tub to find Sarah with a hacksaw in one hand and his foot in the other. "Get dressed and fuck off out you fucking pervert!" "Was that directed at me or him?" I asked. "I'm having a shower. Make sure he's gone by the time I get out." And with that I was alone with Orson. "Jesus!" The accent confirmed what his skin tone had suggested. Londoner. That would make things easier. "Easy mate, she's gone. How you feeling? "How the fuck do you think I'm feeling. Bitch tried to kill me. Who the fuck are you?" "I'm the bitch's boyfriend." "Boyfriend?" "No comments. You get to call her a bitch for free because you've had a hard day and besides that you're right." By this time Orson was sat up and tenderly pressing at his head while keeping a wary eye on me. "Now why don't you get dressed? If I have to look at you in that state for much longer I'll need to get my retinas scraped." While he picked up his gear I looked out of the window at the market below. It was raining but the street was packed as usual. I counted eleven windows that I knew belonged to other brothels and even saw two guys in suits almost collide near a doorway that advertised MODELS in their eagerness to get away and get in without being seen. It didn't surprise me at all to turn and see that Orson was all pinstripes and FT. If it hadn't been for the red mask he could be my bank manager. "Nip downstairs and Betty will show you the other bathroom. I'd get cleaned off before you let the family see you." Off he trundled without a word. Betty was surprised later when I asked after him. He had snuck down the stairs and out without bothering to even look in a mirror. Betty thought we would be taking him to the Thames once it got dark. Betty's been around a bit. As soon as I was alone in the bedroom I sat back down on the unstained side of the bed and waited for my girlfriend to finish washing away the day's blood. Mike is blogging to: The Descendents