by Val
To her, it was all quite simple.
‘Do you want something to drink?’ one of the men suggested.
‘No thanks. I’m sorry but we are waiting for some friends,’ I replied, ultra-politely.
I was beginning to get anxious.
‘I’m going to give them meu telephone,’ said Cindy, searching in her bag for a pen to write her number down with.
‘Don’t hesitate to call me,’ she said, handing one of them a piece of paper.
‘Are you satisfied?’ I said, almost angrily. ‘Everybody is staring at us. Now we really do look like hookers.’
‘Don’t get so annoyed! You’ll soon be doing exactly the same as me, you’ll see! A man who looks at you means money in the bank, you can bet on it.’
She burst out laughing.
She may have been right, but as yet I didn’t feel I could behave like that.
‘Val?’
I turned round to see who was calling me. I found myself face to face with a man of around thirty-seven, wearing a grey suit with a red tie. Not only was he attractive, but I was impressed by his impeccable manners. I didn’t think twice about it, but replied, ‘Manuel? I don’t believe it! What are you going here? I thought you lived in Madrid.’
He kissed me on both cheeks as though we were old friends.
‘Let me get a proper look at you. You haven’t changed a bit!’
I followed his lead. This was turning out to be fun, and I could see that Cindy could scarcely contain her laughter either.
‘Nor have you!’ I said, smiling broadly back at him. ‘You must meet my friend. Cindy, this is Manuel, we’ve been friends for ages.’
Manuel kissed Cindy’s hand. She leaned over me and whispered, ‘Such a touching scene!’
I ignored her and turned back to Manuel, who by now had another man standing next to him.
‘I’d like to introduce my friend and colleague, Rodolfo. We had a meeting in Barcelona, and tonight it’s his birthday, so we decided to celebrate it here.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Rodolfo, and congratulations,’ I said, shaking his hand.
‘Pleased and congratulations,’ Cindy said, imitating me.
Rodolfo was also good-looking, and seemed very friendly. But I preferred Manuel.
‘Are you expecting someone?’ Manuel asked, before sitting down at our table.
The next problem was going to be who went with whom. As I understood it, Rodolfo was allowed first choice, as this was his night. Manuel was supposed to take the girl his friend did not want.
‘No, please, come and join us,’ I said, with my best smile.
After a moment’s hesitation, Rodolfo sat down next to Cindy. It looked as though he had already made his choice. Manuel sat in the fourth chair, and I felt distinctly relieved.
‘Are you still in politics?’ I asked him.
‘Yes, I have to earn a living.’
It really seemed that both of us had learned our lines perfectly. He leaned closer and whispered to me, ‘Your friend knows Rodolfo isn’t to suspect a thing, doesn’t she?’
‘Yes. Don’t worry.’
‘Fine. And by the way, you look great!’ he added, much to my surprise.
‘So do you. And I’m glad your friend chose Cindy.’
‘So am I. I was scared he wouldn’t!’ he said, still staring me in the face.
I said nothing. I was rather intimidated by him.
‘You’re incredible. It’s as though we really have been friends all our lives.’
I liked this politician. I wanted to take him to bed with me.
After we had chatted a while with our respective opposite numbers, I remembered I had to ring Susana. I said I needed to go to the bathroom, and got up from the table.
When I rang, it was Angelika who replied. I could tell she was fuming at the end of the line, but I calmed her down. I also replaced the piece of sponge properly. It was still killing me! What a great idea Cristina had! This was the first and last time I was going to put crap like that inside me.
By the time I got back to our table, Rodolfo was feeling very sick. He was about to throw up because of all he had been drinking. Manuel was really sorry, but said he felt he had to take him back to their hotel. I tried to persuade him we could meet up later in his room, but he would have none of it. He did not want to risk it, he said, with his friend in such a state.
Cindy and I were left there like two idiots, not knowing what to say, and feeling frustrated because each of us had liked our client. The Kuwaitis at the next table tried to chat us up again, but I managed to convince Cindy not to have anything to do with them, and soon afterwards we clambered into a taxi to take us back to the apartment.
The Marquis De Sade Waltz
5th September 1999
FOUR IN THE afternoon.
The building was opposite the Barceloneta beach, in a part of the city which was far from salubrious.
I agreed to go, among other reasons, because this was the first time Susana had called me during the day, and I felt privileged. I wanted to show her she could always count on me. She had given me precise information about the very special client I was going to see, and as I went up to the third floor I felt well in control, dressed in jeans and a white blouse.
‘Don’t wear anything sophisticated,’ Susana had recommended, ‘just jeans and no make-up. He wants a schoolgirl, and you’re not exactly fifteen.’
That last gratuitous comment had infuriated me for a while, but gradually the idea of acting out this scene of an adolescent girl had started to excite me. At last, something different! I was beginning to be really fed up with men who just wanted a conventional fuck. After the failure with the two politicians I wanted something that broke the routine, and this sounded interesting.
When I entered the building, I found there was no lift. It was a very old, rundown place, and the ground floor was obviously where all the local youngsters met on a Saturday night: the walls were full of graffiti, and under the stairwell it was black and scorched where someone had tried to set light to it. There were Coke cans littering the floor, and as I went by a few kids started playing football with them, kicking them at me and laughing.
The client lived right at the top. I plucked up my courage and started climbing the stairs two at a time until I reached the fifth floor. I felt nervous, wondering what kind of a guy could possibly live in such a dump.
I had almost got to his door when my mobile rang.
‘Hello?’
I had to shout because the kids playing downstairs were making such a racket it could be heard all the way up here.
‘Aren’t you there yet?’ Susana asked me impatiently. ‘You’ve been half an hour in the taxi. What are you up to? The client is waiting for you!’
‘I was just about to call you. I’ve almost reached the front door,’ I replied breathlessly. I realized all of a sudden that someone was watching me from the landing.
A swarthy, heavy guy was glaring at me from the door I was walking towards, mobile in hand.
‘I have to go now,’ I told Susana when I saw him gesticulating at me to switch off my phone at once. He looked furious.
I put my phone away.
He ushered me in quickly without a word. Before shutting the door he glanced up and down the corridor to see if anyone had witnessed the scene.
Then, still without saying anything, he pushed me towards the living room. When we had reached it, he suddenly let rip.
‘Not exactly the soul of discretion, are you?’
Until then I had almost thought he must be mute. But his voice was so gruff I began to feel even more nervous.
‘I’m sorry! You’re right, I should have switched it off.’
‘I told your boss: no mobiles! I don’t want my neighbours to know I pay for a whore!’
I hated the word, yet he didn’t look like someone I wanted to get into an argument with.
‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-two.’
&nbs
p; ‘I asked for a younger girl.’
He lit a cigarette. I said nothing. I’d already lied by taking eight years off my age. The atmosphere in the room made me even uneasier. It smelt of ancient furniture and dust, and I tried desperately to relax.
‘You’re so lucky to have a flat with a sea view!’ I said, moving towards his balcony.
‘You’re joking! Can’t you see it’s a shit-hole?’
He was right there. It was an old flat full of old furniture, with one crumbling sofa. The floor was covered in cheap tiles scored with black marks where the pieces of furniture had been moved over the years. The walls were covered in a faded yellow paper that was torn in several places, revealing the white plaster underneath. It was obvious that none of the tenants had ever looked after the place.
‘Yes, but you’ve got the sea,’ I insisted.
‘I couldn’t give a fuck about the sea! This is a shit-hole!’
Of course, he was bound to contradict anything I said. He slumped onto the sofa which was covered in an old check blanket, whose only functions as far as I could tell were to keep the settee together, and to produce filthy balls of fluff. This was going to be hard work. The guy was obviously a bitter loner and I was obviously not what he wanted.
‘Come over here so I can get a better look at you.’
By now he was flat on his back on the sofa. I went over to him, and he got me to twirl round so he could examine me front and back. Then he took his trousers down and told me to do the same. He stood up again, his underpants covered in fluff, and went over to the stereo. He put on a CD.
‘Do you dance?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, hoping a bit of music might calm him down.
Five minutes later he had had enough of music and dancing. He ordered, ‘Now, get down on all fours.’
He got the money out of his trouser pocket and threw it on the floor in front of me.
I stared at him for a minute, trying to understand what he wanted, then did as he had asked.
As I knelt down, he jumped on my back like a rider on a horse. By now I was convinced I was faced with a raving lunatic, whose only wish was to humiliate me. That was all I needed! He started riding me, then grabbed hold of my hair like a caveman. He was so heavy, my coccyx was grating against my lower back.
‘What are you doing?’ I shouted, trying to get up.
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘What do you mean? You’re hurting me.’
‘I’m paying, so I can do what I want!’
‘Oh no,’ I said, red-faced, ‘that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t work for a sadomaso agency. If you want to humiliate a girl, there are people who specialize in that! But I’m not one of them.’
I could feel a sense of fear gripping my body, because I had no idea how this madman might react.
‘Yes, you’re right, I wanted to humiliate someone, and I thought any whore would do. But I can see you don’t want to collaborate,’ he said scornfully.
My heart was pounding uncontrollably.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m not any whore, as you call them. If you want, I’ll leave. You’ll only have to pay the taxi.’ As I said it, I was hoping against hope he would agree.
The atmosphere was unbearable.
‘No, no, don’t do that! Call your agency and tell them you’re staying the hour.’
By now I didn’t understand a thing.
‘No violence then, all right?’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, looking daggers at me. ‘No violence.’
Despite myself, I called Susana. I really didn’t want to stay with this weirdo, and hoped she would be able to hear the fear in my voice and tell me to come back at once, without running any more risks. But she said nothing.
‘Now let’s go to the bedroom,’ he said as soon as I finished. I didn’t like this new tone of voice either.
He showed me into a small, filthy bedroom. In it was a single bed with a stained sheet on it. He took my undies off, and literally threw me onto the bed.
Then he disappeared into the bathroom. I took advantage of being alone to take a good look round me, trying to understand what kind of person I was having to do this with. On a bookshelf I saw all kinds of books with scary titles, and the complete works of the Marquis de Sade in Spanish. Next to them were fetish objects, and on the wall hung a very long whip and a leather mask. God, I’m in Hannibal Lecter’s house, I told myself.
He came out of the bathroom wearing only a tiny thong, and started pacing up and down like an exhibitionist.
‘Just look and say nothing,’ he said, with his wild, staring eyes on me.
The thong was squashing his genitals so much he soon had to tear it off. He put a condom on and leapt on me, searching for my vagina with clumsy fingers. Thank god pharmaceutical laboratories have invented glycerine!
He penetrated me roughly, howling obscenities. I had only one thing in mind: to finish as quickly as possible and get out of there. His revolting body weighed like a hundred-ton boulder on top of me, and every time he thrust forward, a wild animal smell filled my nostrils. As he came, his whole quivering mass started trembling and shaking uncontrollably. It was unbearable. When everything was finally over, I scooped up my clothes without a word to him, and ran to the door, putting them on as I went. I ran down the stairs and outside, where the youngsters from before were surprisingly quiet. I sprinted down the street like an Olympic athlete. I wanted to get as far away as possible from that freak and leave behind all the foul language he had slobbered all over me. I was hoping that as I ran, the wind would wipe me clean of his words. When I couldn’t breathe any more, I came to a halt and allowed all the tears I had been holding back, all my accumulated rage, to come tumbling out of me.
In The Eye Of The Camera
6th September 1999
SIX IN THE morning.
‘Susana told me all about it,’ Cristina said, with little trace of compassion in her voice, when she arrived at my flat. ‘It takes all sorts, and you’ll just have to get used to it, because you’re sure to meet more of them.’
‘He nearly injured me,’ I pointed out.
My voice was hoarse because I had barely slept, and because I was in a bad mood. The last thing I felt like was posing for a camera, but I knew my job depended on it.
A car was waiting for us out in the street. Ignacio the photographer was the driver, and beside him sat his assistant, who was going to help keep my make-up fresh.
‘I also forget to tell you how important it is for you to call Susana as soon as you get to the client’s place. If you don’t, we’ll think you arrived sooner and have got him to pay you extra. It’s happened before with other girls, and now Susana is suspicious of everyone. The same when you leave. We need to know the exact time: if the client wants you to stay longer, you have to call Susana and tell her.’
‘I was going to call her, but she got in first. The client lived a long way away, and with all the traffic I was late arriving. But I didn’t spend any longer with him, Cristina!’
‘Susana is convinced you did.’
When I protested again, Cristina wanted to close the argument.
‘It doesn’t matter this time,’ she said. ‘But don’t let it happen again!’
I glanced at her, horrified, but said nothing. It seemed like this was going to be a difficult morning.
After that, we hardly spoke on the drive. All of us were very tired. I was the worst, although I was beginning to get used to being woken at any hour. I was angry with Susana as well. I couldn’t understand how she could think and say things like that about me. Whatever my faults, I’m not a cheat.
Before we began the photo session, we stopped at a village bar for some breakfast.
‘Cristina tells me you’re getting on well in the agency,’ Ignacio said, to break the silence.
‘Yes, everything’s fine for now.’
‘You’ll see, with a book of photos you’ll get twice the work,’ he said, convinced the photobook w
ould be my best investment ever.
‘I hope so!’
I drank several cappuccinos, and began to feel better. I was anxious to make a start.
9th September 1999
Nothing special happened today, except for the usual row with Isa. She’s had something stolen again. This time it was what she claimed was a gold bracelet and the Cartier rings she was given by the old guy she’s been living off for the past three months.
I was in the living room when I heard her shouting hysterically, then talking to Sara, the Barbie doll.
‘I bet it was that Frenchwoman,’ she told her.
I preferred to keep my cool, because if I didn’t, I knew I might attack her. And I wouldn’t do that, because I suspected that she was just trying to get me thrown out of the agency.
Isa and Sara stormed into the kitchen to see Susana. I tried to make out what they were saying, but from where I was sitting their words were unintelligible. A few moments later Susana came out of her headquarters, cigarette in hand.
‘Can I speak to you for a moment, sweetheart?’ she said, in a non-committal sort of voice.
I knew very well what she wanted to talk about, so I nodded.
‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you! The other day, Isa’s Versace jacket disappears. Then I send you out to a client and you take forever to get there. Now Isa claims someone’s stolen her gold bracelet and rings. I’m sorry, but that’s a lot of coincidences since you arrived.’
‘What are you implying?’ I said, sick of being accused without proof.
‘No, nothing. But it all seems very strange to me, sweetheart.’
‘Are you insinuating it was me who stole Isa’s jacket and her jewellery?’ I was furious.
‘No, I’m not saying it was you, just that it’s very strange.’
‘Don’t you think it’s because I’m new here, and Isa can’t stand the sight of me? Can’t you see she’s trying to set everyone against me? She can’t stand me, Susana, and I’m beginning to think you can’t either.’
‘What’s that, sweetheart? No, you’re wrong there. I’m just doing my job. Whenever there are problems between girls, I have to sort them out. I don’t want it to be like last time, when Isa called Manolo at home. If that happens, I’m the one with problems.’
