

If you stay, he sets the rules.
He’s a big man. About sixty. Shaved head. Shirt open. Gold chain. Cigar in his hand. Settled in the leather chair, legs apart.
He smiles. It isn’t courtesy. He’s measuring you.
He doesn’t get up. He doesn’t call you over. He doesn’t sweeten it. He waits to see what you do.
If you stay, tonight isn’t about being looked after. Tonight he runs it.
Look at him again.
Are you sure?