by Val
‘It’s not much for a set of artistic photos,’ Cristina said bluntly.
‘I don’t have any idea of the price of that kind of thing.’
‘Well, photobooks are really expensive, believe me. But it’s useful for your work. It’s absolutely necessary, in fact.’
‘All right. I’ll do it, but let me work for a while first so I can save enough money, then we can organize the photo session,’ I said thoughtfully.
‘Of course. So, would you like to work a shift as well? Day or night?’
‘At night, but I’ll have my mobile on twenty-four hours a day as well, so you’ll be able to call me at any time when I’m not here.’
‘Fine. I can count on you then?’
‘Yes, you can. Today I need to go home though. But I’ll keep my phone on, so you can call me.’
‘Good. Oh, by the way, at night you’ll meet another manager. Her name is Angelika. She’s a foreigner, but she speaks perfect Spanish. I’ll tell her about you. A piece of advice: never tell a client or any of the other girls here that this is the first time you’ve done this sort of thing. Nobody will believe you. And one last thing: today you didn’t do it because you didn’t know, but after you’ve been in a bedroom with a client, you have to change the sheets straight away. Susana will look after the rest. Come with me and I’ll show you where we keep the clean sheets. And the towels.’
We left the kitchen just as Susana came in, carrying the sheets from the bed I had been in with Alberto.
In the entrance to the apartment Cristina opened a large wooden wardrobe. Inside I could see a huge pile of sheets in one corner, and in the other stacks of clean towels for each girl to take as she needed. I noticed Susana was standing behind us. For some reason she had followed us from the kitchen, with her everlasting cigarette still stuck between her teeth. There was another wardrobe in the corridor, out of which dangled the strap of one of the girls’ nightdresses. Cristina noticed what I was looking at.
‘You can put your clothes in there. But be careful! You might not think it, but a lot gets stolen.’
‘The girls steal from each other?’ I said, taken aback.
Susana nodded. We all went back to the kitchen, and Cristina showed me how the coffee machine worked.
‘There’s coffee, tea, or chocolate. Just ask Susana. Each drink is a hundred and fifty pesetas. All right?’
‘All right.’
Of course, everything here had to be paid for. And I had to change my own sheets! I said goodbye to Cristina and Susana, and went out into the street. I was pleased to have made fifty thousand pesetas for two hours’ work, and told myself I was going to do as much as I could there. And despite my nerves before I had to attend my first client, I felt as if I had been doing this kind of thing all my life.
Miss Sarajevo
The night of 1st September 1999
THREE IN THE morning.
It took me a long time to react: my mobile had been ringing for ages.
‘Yes, hello?’ I said, more dead than alive.
‘Hello there Val, this is Angelika, the night manager at the brothel,’ a very friendly voice said at the far end of the line. ‘Were you asleep? I’ve been trying to get through for the past ten minutes.’
‘Oh, hi! Yes, I was asleep, but it doesn’t matter,’ I said, sitting up. The word ‘brothel’ had woken me up properly. I didn’t want to lose a single opportunity to work.
‘Listen, I’ve got a job for you. He’s a very good client. An Australian. He’ll be expecting you at his place in twenty minutes. He’ll pay fifty thousand plus the taxi, and if he likes you, he’ll use you every week.’
‘Fantastic! Where does he live?’ I asked, searching for a biro.
‘Write it down.’
While she was giving me his address, I was thinking about what I should wear.
‘When you get there and he’s paid you, call me. And call me again when you leave his place. Then come straight here with the money, right?’
‘Yes, no problem,’ I replied. ‘What’s the client’s name?’
For some reason, this information seemed vitally important to me.
‘David,’ Angelika said, and hung up.
She sounded very friendly and professional. I was anxious to meet her.
I had a quick shower, called a taxi, and within fifteen minutes I was on my way to David’s apartment.
The block was on the heights above Barcelona. A lovely place.
‘Come up,’ his voice said, and the entryphone echoed along the deserted street.
I found myself face to face with a very young guy. He was small, and wore a pair of round glasses that gave him an intellectual appearance. He wasn’t particularly good-looking, but he seemed pleasant and sensitive. He smiled and invited me in. The flat was nice, but there wasn’t much furniture, so I guessed he was a bachelor who had neither the time nor the inclination to do it up.
‘Are you new?’ he asked, after getting me to sit next to him on a blue sofa.
‘Yes,’ I said, smiling back at him. ‘You can tell, can’t you?’
‘No, it’s not that. It’s just that I phone your agency every week, and I’ve never seen you before. That was why I thought you must be new. How long have you been working there?’
‘Only since this afternoon,’ I said, glancing at his bookshelves, full of books and CDs.
‘Angelika told me you were French. I can see that just from looking at you,’ he said, laughing.
‘Yes, I am. And you’re Australian, aren’t you? You speak very good Spanish,’ I replied, as he got up to look for something.
‘We can speak French if you like. I studied it for years, although sometimes my vocabulary is a bit lacking,’ he said, with another little laugh.
I laughed with him. He seemed really nice, even if he was a bit short for my liking.
He put the fifty thousand pesetas on the living-room table and suggested I count them.
‘Now ring your agency and tell them everything is fine. If you don’t you could be in trouble.’
‘I see you know how it works,’ I said, dialling the agency on my mobile.
Angelika replied at once.
‘Everything OK?’ she asked, as if she had just been waiting by the phone to hear from me.
‘Yes, everything’s fine.’
‘Perfect. You have one hour. When you leave, ring to tell me you’ve finished.’
David showed me to his bedroom, and from that moment on, did not speak to me. I preferred it like that, as I didn’t have much to say to him either. He started to undress me, and I was surprised at how skilfully he did it. I always imagined that men who paid to be with a girl could never make love properly, and were clumsy when they caressed you. But I was wrong, because David was not like that at all, so I decided to let myself go and forget the reason why I was there.
He kissed me all over my body, my buttocks, and my feet, then moved up suddenly and gently bit the back of my neck, before starting to move down me once more.
I found he had a tiny body, with a prick to match. But I didn’t care. He was giving me a really good time.
There was a bottle of massage oil on his bedside table, and when he saw me looking at it he picked it up, still without a word, turned me over on my stomach, and began to massage my back. It was fantastic. He had the hands of a real professional. It was such a heavenly sensation I wouldn’t mind being woken at three every night to be there with him like this.
I came round an hour later. I had red blotches all over my body, and he woke me with a gentle kiss on the lips. As I rode down in the lift, I felt as though I were floating. And on top of it all, I had been paid! I could hardly credit it.
I called Angelika as agreed, and found a taxi. In a quarter of an hour I was at the agency. It was a real pleasure to drive through Barcelona at that time of night, when it was completely empty. When I arrived, Angelika came down to open the street door for me. It’s normally kept locked for security reasons.
She whispered a greeting so as not to wake the neighbours, and showed me up.
Angelika is an extraordinary woman. She is tall, with bright red hair, big blue eyes, and milky-white skin. No one would think she manages a brothel. The only thing I didn’t like about her was that she looked too masculine for my taste.
We reached the apartment and went straight to the kitchen.
‘There’s a client in the suite, and the girls are sleeping in the other bedroom,’ she explained.
To my surprise, she kissed me on both cheeks.
‘I’m Angelika! Welcome!’
I found all this a bit exaggerated: after all, this was the first time we had met.
‘Have you got the money?’ she asked, opening a notebook with all the girls’ names written in it, the times they had worked, and the amounts paid.
‘Yes, here’s your fifty thousand.’
‘Thanks. And here’s your twenty-five.’
She put a cross next to my name in the book.
‘How was it with David?’ she asked, obviously amused at the pink blotches on my face.
‘Good, as you can see. He’s a sweetheart; he needs a lot of affection.’
‘Yes. All the girls are delighted when they know they’re going to see him. If only they were all like him . . . Would you like a drink? I’ll pay.’
‘I could do with a coffee. I can scarcely keep my eyes open,’ I said, yawning.
Angelika made me a coffee in the machine, then prepared herself a hot chocolate.
‘Thanks,’ I said, blowing on my coffee to cool it.
‘Cristina told me you’re going to work all round the clock. You’ll earn lots of money that way. When are you going to be here?’
‘At night, I think, I’m not sure, I imagine it depends on how many clients there are, doesn’t it?’
‘That depends on which day it is. Some days there’s more work in the daytime; others, it gets busy at night. But if you always keep your mobile on, you’ll get plenty of work, you’ll see.’
‘How many girls work for the agency?’ I was curious to know.
‘Lots, though they don’t all come here. Some of them just leave their photobook, and we only call them if no girl is available. To give you some idea, tonight six came for the night shift.’
When she said that, I realized how privileged I had been. She could have sent any of the girls in the brothel to visit David. It was strange, because the place seemed empty: there was no noise, not a sound. They must all have been asleep in the next room.
‘Won’t the others be upset it was me who went to David’s?’
‘Don’t worry. He always wants someone new. He’s been with all the girls here tonight already. Anyway, how are they to know?’
‘I won’t worry then.’
‘What would you like to do? Stay here, or go home and start the night shift tomorrow?’
‘I prefer to go home. I have to get used to this new rhythm.’
‘Just as you like.’
‘Thank you, Angelika.’
After I had said goodbye and got into a taxi, I realized a new day was dawning. I love the first light in the city. The air was clear and fresh, and I was so happy that I was noticing small things like that again. It had been a long time since I had enjoyed such a peaceful moment. Not only that, but in less than twenty-four hours I had earned seventy-five thousand pesetas, and I had really enjoyed myself with David. If only things carry on like this!
Careful, We’re Being Watched!
2nd September 1999
I SLEPT MOST of the morning. When I woke up, I wanted to go to the brothel as quickly as possible, to see if there was any work. But I stayed at home, and there wasn’t a single call all day.
I finally went to the agency at around half past eleven in the evening, as Cristina had recommended, with a bag of nightwear. The downstairs door was still open, so I went straight up to the apartment. Susana showed me in.
‘Hello there, sweetheart! You’re early. Most of the girls working at night get here just before twelve, five minutes before the shift starts. You’ll do the same, I’m sure, once you’ve got used to it,’ Susana commented, her big round eyes fixed on me.
‘Cristina said that if I wasn’t here before twelve, I wouldn’t be able to get in.’
‘Yes, that’s the rule.’ Then she added, changing topics, ‘Some of the girls from the day shift are still here. They’ll be leaving soon, and so will I. Let me introduce you to them.’
The rule! It made this sound like a convent!
We went into the living room (meaning there were no clients, otherwise the door would have been shut, because it gives directly onto the suite). I could hear voices and, from time to time, the sound of laughter.
Three girls were sitting on the sofa, and one on the floor. I was surprised at how different they all were. I recognized Isa, the mulatto who had refused to say hello yesterday. She had a big head of hair, fleshy lips, and a tiny nose that had obviously been operated on. She was wearing a light suede outfit that brought out the cinnamon colour of her skin. Her plunging neckline revealed a pair of enormous breasts – thirty-eight at least – that had also been under the surgeon’s knife, as another of the girls wickedly told me later on. Bit by bit, I managed to win Isa over, and we even had some surreal conversations about how crazy people are.
‘Everybody’s mad, you know,’ she would constantly tell me. ‘All mad. And especially men! They’re off their heads! They must be crazy to pay a woman for a fuck!’
In fact, this was about the limit of her conversation. She never talked about anything else, but she did make me laugh a lot, although at the same time I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
Whatever money she earned, she spent on clothes. One day after she had worked hard, she splashed out a hundred and fifty thousand pesetas on new rags. She would tell everyone she was twenty-nine, even though she had seen at least forty-two summers: all her operations kept her looking young. She was the eldest of all of us, and she thought this gave her more rights, which was why she always scowled at any newcomer.
Today I was the new girl, so she hardly deigned to look at me. After what had happened yesterday, I wasn’t surprised.
Next to her was a tall, gorgeous redhead, with long straight hair down to her hips. I thought at first that Estefania was Swedish. Later I was told she was Spanish, from Valladolid! She said nothing about the fact that I had borrowed her red dress to see my first client. Cristina must have smoothed things over. Estefania had an angelic face, with soft, big blue eyes. She was working as a prostitute to keep a much older man, who did nothing himself because he couldn’t be bothered. I never found out much more about her, because she was always very discreet, and rarely talked about herself. Tonight, she greeted me with a smile. Over time, I came to think she was the smartest of them all: she only spoke when necessary, otherwise she simply smiled. It was she who taught me that talking in a place like that was the worst thing you could do.
Mae was Spanish as well, but from Asturias. She had short blonde hair, and long legs. She was very attractive, but mistrust oozed from her every pore. I immediately sensed I would have to be careful with her, because I could see she was a real snake. She was always boasting about she had been a model, but clearly she hadn’t made a great success of it . . . She had a lot of admirers, and obviously lived off men, both inside and outside the brothel. She would disappear for weeks on end, whenever she had a new man in her life. Once the money and the relationship were exhausted, she would reappear like a stray dog. She gave herself airs, but in my opinion she was the most common of them all.
Cindy, a black-eyed Portuguese girl, was the only one who spoke to me when I came into the room. She was the witch who had arranged for the lemon and cigarette to be burning in the entrance hall. She had shiny raven-black hair, and a muscular body.
‘Hi there! You’re French, aren’t you?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I’m Val.’
‘Pleased to meet yo
u,’ she said, shaking my hand.
This formal politeness was in sharp contrast not only to her surroundings, but to the vulgar dress she was wearing. I put it down to the fact that she did not know much Spanish. In fact, as I learned, her Spanish was dreadful: she was always mixing it up with Portuguese. So she would come out with the few stock phrases she knew, and mix that with the worst kind of slang, making me think she must once have been a streetwalker. I knew immediately though that she would be my friend, and we always got on very well. Cindy worked on both the day and the night shifts, because she had serious problems with money.
‘I have a filha to bring up, for fuck’s sake,’ she would tell me all the time.
Whenever I heard her, I burst out laughing. She considered herself such a lady, but could not stop herself talking that way. She was completely surrealist too.
So I had now met the four most established girls in the brothel. Susana motioned to me to follow her back into the kitchen.
‘Listen, sweetheart, make sure you don’t get into a fight with any of them. There are always problems between them, but don’t get involved. I’m telling you for your own good,’ insisted Susana, as if I were about to contradict her, ‘you’ll thank me for it some day, you’ll see! And if anything does happen, come and talk to me or Cristina about it. She’s the boss.’
‘Fine,’ I said, without hesitation.
All at once we heard shrieks from the living room.
It was Isa.
‘I bet one of you whores has stolen my Versace jacket!’ she shouted hysterically.
‘One of us?’ Mae shouted back. ‘You’re the crazy whore around here. I can buy all the Versace jackets I want, you idiot.’
‘You can, can you? So how come my jacket has vanished since you arrived?’
Susana ran out of the kitchen.
‘What’s going on here?’ she asked, a lit cigarette in her hand as ever.
‘Someone has stolen my Versace jacket,’ Isa told her. ‘And I bet it was one of them.’
I looked on, clutching my plastic bag of clothes tightly, in case a robber leapt out of the wardrobe.
