“If I may check your bag please, madam,” the female bouncer continued; Lucie handing it over and inwardly sighing in relief that the new wallet was not opened to reveal her fresh new ID. Alongside that lay a passport also made out in the new name, which the bouncer did open and inspect, looking up to compare its picture with Lucie’s face, before closing it and handing it back.
“Thank you” she said in her monotone delivery. “The reception desk is through the doors; your details will need to be recorded before you enjoy the facilities.”
With that, she stood back, gesturing with her arm for Lucie to head through the doors. She complied and pushed through to a spacious and dimly lit room, at the far end of which was a bar, while next to her was a small alcove, housing an individual desk with computer, phone and scanner. Aside from a small desk lamp at the reception, the illumination in the room came from a myriad of blue and red neon lights decorating the walls, the obvious intent being to keep visibility, and perhaps recognition, at a low. Sofas and chairs in burgundy leather punctuated the floor space, while dance music pumped its way through the sound system, making any conversations in the room inaudible to all who didn’t strain to hear. The room was largely empty, save for a group of five young, suited men, fresh from some office somewhere, who sat grinning to each other with drinks in their hands and their eyes displaying the undisguisable signs of a well-satisfied coke habit. As she watched them, two young women, clad only in exotic underwear, came through a door beside the bar and headed towards the group, informing them that the ‘party room’ was prepared and bidding them to follow. Lucie grimaced in distaste as the group stood up, laughing in poorly disguised nervousness and peppering their journey with all manner of boorish comments and unrequested touching.
“She sounds German,” she heard one of the group shouting to his friends over the music. “That’s another one off the list. I had a black girl and a chink last time I was here…”
Lucie scowled at the crass display as the group disappeared to continue their churlishness behind the closing door.
“Can I help you madam?”
Lucie turned back to the reception alcove, her frown deepening as she realised the young man who had appeared behind it must have likewise heard the racist vulgarities and opted to do nothing about it. Tempted though she was to unload upon him, her plan for the evening depended on her keeping her cool, and so she quickly adjusted her features and stepped closer, reaching into her bag for her fresh new passport.
“Good evening,” she said, loudly enough to be heard over the pumping music. “I was told to come through and book in with you.”
“No problem at all,” came the response in what seemed to Lucie an unnecessarily obsequious tone. “Is madam awaiting company?”
“Madam is not, madam wishes to use your services alone this evening, unless the establishment has a problem with that?”
Lucie already loathed the conversation she was having and was sorely tempted to feel the same way about the man she was having it with. A man obviously older than he was trying to convey, the long hair tied back into a ponytail looked wholly out of place, lending a sinister edge to his unashamedly sleazy expression. Deep lines ran across his brow, which creased further as an unsavoury smile tweaked his red cheeks and his tongue flicked snake-like over his lips.
“No problem at all,” he answered, repeating his apparent catchphrase in a broad cockney accent as he pulled a laminated black card from beneath his desk and handed it to her.
“If you would like to purvey this week’s offers while I process your details?”
Lucie put her fake passport on the counter and took the card from him, struggling to keep the wince from her face as her eyes moved quickly down it, taking in the exotic names for all manner of sexual acts, with a column of steadily increasing prices listed opposite. The desk clerk’s voice piped up again, his jovial inflection a clear indication of his enjoyment at conversing for once with a single woman.
“We do have a two-for-one offer on tonight,” he chirped, Lucie looking back to him with steadily narrowing eyes. “And quite a few of them will ask you outright if you plan on leaving a tip but if you ask me it’s best to be cagey about that until the end; you’ll find they do a better job if they think they might make a few quid extra out of it.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Lucie answered, tossing the card back onto the desk and picking her returned passport off it.
“So, what’ll it be?” the seedy man quizzed, the formality of his language dropping as his lasciviousness rose. “Man, woman or maybe one of each? There’s a few things we’re not allowed to put on the price list but once you get in the rooms most of our people are prepared to negotiate. If there’s anything special you want and anyone says no, just you come back and see me and we’ll find someone prepared to do it. Oh, and there’s a twenty-five per cent discount if you’re prepared to sign up to the streaming service.”
“Streaming service?”
“Some of the suites are fitted with webcams where we can stream you straight onto the web – that’s a big revenue stream for the owners, and a lot of punters like the idea of being a pornstar for the night.”
“Do they?” Lucie replied in rhetorical deadpan.
The man leaned forward, the creases on his forehead and the red of his cheeks deepening as his unsettling smile widened and he leaned closer towards her.
“So, what do you think?”
She could feel the man’s sickening attempt to intimidate and embarrass her and for a moment pitied him. She had survived infinitely worse than this seedy little shit and one look at him was enough to tell her that he would crumble in a second if faced with the same horrors that she had come through in her life. Toying with him, she put her hands on the counter and leaned just as closely in, her face so close to his she could smell the stench of stale alcohol and cigar smoke.
“I think,” she said, as his grin grew wider, “that there isn’t a discount in the world big enough to convince me to get my kicks in front of a camera while you sit behind your desk, pulling on your pathetic little cock to my moves.”
The lecherous grin disappeared, and the man straightened up and stood back as the redness in his cheeks became the purple of embarrassed ego.
“I want someone to dance for me, that’s all. No cameras and no crap from anyone.”
“What kind of dancer?” came the chastened and sheepish response.
“A woman, I don’t care which, just someone with some good moves and who’s been here a while; I want someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“And will you be requiring additional services…?”
“That’s between me and her, I presume I can pay her direct?” Lucie forcefully answered, receiving a curt nod in response. “Good, I’ll wait over there, shall I?”
Not waiting for an answer, Lucie stepped away from the desk and sat in one of the deep leather seats, breathing deeply to compose herself and trying to take in as much as she could about the place, the people and the attitudes. It wasn’t just in places like this that single women found themselves the subject of unwanted advances, but she was surprised at quite how brazen the receptionist’s approach had been. Had Ines or any of the other women been here alone, it was easy to think they could have quickly found themselves in trouble, but Lucie wasn’t prepared to make that judgement quite yet.
The depth of the seat was making her right knee, which had been badly injured years earlier, ache and throb, and she stood to stretch it. As she did so, the inner door opened, and a young woman began walking seductively towards her, making Lucie’s eyes widen in surprise. Dressed in only skimpy, frilled white underwear, the woman was stunningly attractive, with long dark hair worn loose and hanging down her back. A petite nose sat above red lips and a neatly pointed chin, while her eyes, round and blue, gave an air of innocence which defied the way she moved her shapely frame towards Lucie.
“Your room is prepared,” the newcomer informed her in a soft acc
ent Lucie immediately identified as Polish. Taken a little aback, Lucie struggled for a moment to swallow her embarrassment and play the role of someone seasoned in the enjoyment of this type of interaction, with firm ideas as to how she wished things to proceed.
“You came quickly,” Lucie said after a moment, adding a mischievous edge to her smile that was far from natural to her.
“The first one’s always quick, it’s the rest that take longer.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re my first customer of the evening,” the young woman answered. “The room has been prepared a long time; they have to be cleaned up at the end of sessions. Shall we?”
She looked at Lucie with a naughtiness which bore through the outward innocence of her eyes.
“What’s your name?” Lucie asked, accepting the professional’s proffered hand.
“Ludmita. And yours?”
“Agni.”
For a brief moment they locked eyes with the stare of two people who knew the other to be lying, but to whom the deceit was not important. Names, after all, hardly mattered in places like this.
As Lucie followed ‘Ludmita’ through the door from which she had entered and down the corridor, she damned herself for her plan. This was not a field in which she was comfortable or, she guessed, convincing, and she was sure that while she had pulled the wool over the eyes of the man behind the desk, this ‘Ludmita’ had already seen through her façade as the dominant punter. While Lucie had been ill at ease with the plan from the beginning, together with Ismail she had decided that trying to get into the premises as a punter would garner more information than simply flashing an ID and playing good cop, bad cop. Now as she followed the shapely woman before her she worried further still that it had been a poor choice.
The corridor was peppered either side with doors or different colours, each under a polished metal sign screwed meticulously into place and displaying a unique name hinting at the pleasures contained within. Walking gratefully past the ‘dungeon room’ and the shouts that came from within, Lucie stopped as Ludmita opened the dark blue doors to the ‘dancing suite’ and beckoned her inside.
The quiet beat of muffled background music immediately leapt though the doors to meet her, and Lucie entered to find a dimly lit lounge in the middle of which sat a cream velvet sofa placed before a small, raised stage with a metal pole erected in the centre. On one side of the sofa stood a small, round table upon which sat a full bucket of ice, cradling Lilly Bollinger’s finest, a glass alongside it, while opposite was an open mini bar stacked with miniatures and cans of every description. Ludmita gestured for Lucie to sit as she closed the doors, then turned to her, her demeanour changed at once to one of pure business.
“Okay,” she began, moving in front of Lucie and placing her hands on her hips. “Ground rules: We can do pretty much whatever you like so long as we agree it in advance; I don’t want anything going anywhere I’m not expecting, ok? I’m an open-minded girl but I absolutely won’t do scat; if you want something like that tell me now and I’ll find you someone else…”
“No,” Lucie raised her hand and interrupted, both to maintain her façade of control a little longer and to avoid going any further down the list of acts the working woman found too extreme.
“Good. If you want a drink, help yourself. The price list is next to you and a choice of music.”
Lucie picked up the card beside her and scanned it.
“The booze is double the price in this room than at the bar?”
“Anything sold at the bar goes to the owners, in here it goes to me.”
“An admirable business plan,” Lucie replied in tones matching Ludmita’s for firmness even if there was little confidence behind them. Taking a thick wad of banknotes from her bag, she placed them next to the ice bucket, reclined into the sofa and crossed her legs, keeping her eyes on the young woman’s as she did so.
“I presume that’s enough for an hour? I don’t want any booze, whatever music is already on is fine, and I just want a dance.”
Ludmita picked up the notes and flicked through them, the amount far exceeding anything on the House’s ‘price list’ and narrowed her eyes as she looked down at Lucie.
“It makes a change to see a woman in here by herself. I usually have to put up with drunken boys who can’t get it up, or middle-aged businessmen cheating on their wives. You’re unusual.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Just a dance?”
“Just a dance.”
“That’s a lot of money for just a dance.”
“Then don’t make it a shit one.”
A wicked smile flickered across Ludmita’s face for a moment, made all the more alluring by the paper innocence of her eyes.
“I told you I don’t do scat.”
Lifting a remote control by the side of the stage, Ludmita raised the volume of the music by a few notches and began to bend and stretch herself into readiness before standing still and focussed behind the silver pole, her eyes closed as though entering into a state of meditation. For a moment, Lucie wondered if any capering would ever come, before a long and perfectly formed leg kicked upwards in perfect rhythm with the building crescendo of music in the background. Ludmita, or whoever she really was, fell instantly into her stride, her arms and legs enveloping the pole as though it were a missing limb to be re-claimed and absorbed by her hungering body.
Lucie watched as Ludmita climbed, contorted and writhed to the music, not moving from her cross-legged position on the sofa, but finding herself curiously unsettled by the nervous energy which continued to grow within her. Before meeting Della, it had been a long time since Lucie had allowed herself to think about love or sex, or even entertain an attraction, and after the betrayal she had retreated from the field once more. In recent days though the desire for love, or more truthfully the desire for companionship, had begun to flicker within her again, and she had found herself growing ever fonder of Ismail and wondering how things might develop once their mission was over. Ludmita inspired no such sensations of warmth or affection, radiating instead only a raw sexuality.
Lucie had no time for labels, and she had never particularly cared what a person carried in their pants, being drawn instead to what they carried in their souls. She had loved and been loved by women and men before choosing to put all of that on hold and follow her calling into military chaplaincy; her past drawing condemnation from some of those she had studied with. Though it was Ludmita’s soul that had caught Lucie’s eye this evening, as the dancer slid herself out of the slight, white underwear and moved with deliberate intent over to the sofa.
Ludmita placed her hands on Lucie’s knees and pushed them firmly apart before straddling her and leaning against the sofa as she continued to dance just close enough for her breasts to brush across Lucie’s face.
“Are you sure you only came here for a dance?” Ludmita whispered, her hot breath on Lucie’s ear raising goose bumps on the spy’s flesh.
“Maybe I had other ideas as well…”
“I’m all ears,” said the dancer, laughing softly as she slid from Lucie’s lap and knelt on the floor before her and began to move her head up between Lucie’s inner thighs, pushing the hem of her dress up as she did so, the hot breath now on her legs and getting higher.
“Maybe we could start with a game?” Lucie said, a hint of her nervousness breaking through into her voice as she pushed herself back into the seat.
“Mmmh,” came the voice. “Sounds fine to me, what type of game?”
“How about twenty questions?”
“I like that.” The naked woman had begun to kiss Lucie’s legs, slowly and deliberately moving up and down, each time moving closer to the top before dropping back to begin again. “What kind of questions?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Lucie answered through short breaths. “Maybe for starters I’d like to know if the name Ines Aubel means anything to you.”
Ludmita’s head stopped push
ing and Lucie exhaled in what she thought might have been disappointment rather than relief as the young prostitute sat back and straightened up, her face at once consumed by a scowl.
“Fucking hell,” she spat with contempt. “You’re one of that lot, aren’t you?”
“Which ‘lot’?”
“Those fucking campaigners. I knew it couldn’t just be good luck I got a woman tonight…”
The angered Ludmita stood, shut off the music and flicked on the lights, the brightness highlighting thin worry lines and heavily made up bags under the woman’s eyes, noticeable even as Lucie squinted in the brightness. Picking up a white dressing gown from a hook on the wall, Ludmita quickly covered herself and tightened the strap, raising a finger to Lucie and shouting her indignance at her.
“Let me fucking tell you something,” she started, “and you can tell this to all your do-gooding friends too. No-one trafficked me here, no-one is keeping me here against my will and no-one is going to tell me how to fucking live my life, ok? I might be a whore but I’m an honest one, and if I don’t have the right to do what the fuck I want with my own body then what do I have?”
Lucie remained in her seat, far more comfortable dealing with the woman’s rage than her sexuality.
“I’m not here to judge you,” she calmly replied.
“No? That’s just what your friend said, right before she came out with a list of everything that could go wrong in this profession, that we’re putting ourselves at the mercy of men who might want to fuck us but would never give a fuck about us. How we were putting other women at risk who couldn’t afford to get set up in a place like this. That sounds pretty fucking judgemental to me.”
“I’m sure she was just worried about you all…”
“Ha! Worried about us? I grew up under the fucking Communists, I had nothing, I was in fights every day with people who had absolutely nothing to lose, do you think I can’t handle a few pissed up guys with floppy dicks? And anyway, if things ever get out of hand do you think the guys at the door would just let it happen?.”
Sealed With A Death Page 8
