Onyx, the exotic dancer, had been to uni? Goodness, wasn’t that almost exactly like Belle de Jour or something? Hadn’t she been a high-class call girl by night and some massively well-qualified and respected scientist by day? Was Onyx the world’s leading expert on particle physics or nucleonics or marine biology or something equally mind-boggling? ‘Uni?’ Ella said weakly. ‘I didn’t know Ash had been to uni.’ Onyx nodded. ‘Oh, yes. We were both at Reading, living in halls, and met when we were first year neighbours. Ash was doing Food Marketing and Business Economics – with the intention of one day running his own restaurant. I was reading English – with the intention of doing who knows what, actually. Despite heavy partying, we both graduated with good degrees.’ Ella eventually swallowed the baby carrot. ‘Really? Then why the, um, dancing?’ Onyx shrugged. ‘Oh, natural greed I suppose. And a bit of laziness on both our parts. You see, we’d both been doing evening jobs while we studied to make ends meet – Ash was cooking in other people’s restaurants, and I’ve always danced, so I found it easy to get club work – and once we graduated we just slipped into making our part-time jobs full-time and carried on.
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