by Val
She shook my hand coldly, and I started to feel guilty again. Yana was trying to encourage her, and I looked over at Boris to find out what was being said. Yana was gabbling away, with Kateryna giving only a minimal response. It all sounded like Chinese to me, but I sensed that Kateryna wasn’t happy about something.
When Yana took her hand and disappeared quickly with her inside the dacha, we all followed in single file into the living room, as if this tiny princess had suddenly become chief of our tribe. Yana looked all around her, obviously in search of something. Boris was completely hypnotized by her and seemed unaware of anything else. Kateryna looked embarrassed, as if she didn’t know where to put herself, until I brought the bottle of vodka which I guessed was what Yana had been searching for. We seemed to have established some sort of understanding just by exchanging glances. Kateryna literally leapt on the bottle, and began drinking straight from it. The alcohol appeared to have an immediate effect on her, because almost at once she started to dance, with Yana muttering words of encouragement.
‘What’s she saying to her?’ I asked Boris.
Boris jumped, as if he had been woken from a deep sleep. He listened, then told me, ‘She’s telling her, “I love you, you love me, that’s all that matters. Remember that I love you, that we love each other, and everything will be fine.”’
In the evening we filled the living room with candles, and Giovanni lit them one by one to create a more intimate atmosphere. It was perfect. In the candlelight Kateryna’s dress became transparent, giving us tantalizing glimpses of her curvaceous body. Yana began to undo the buttons of Kateryna’s dress, dancing slowly round her. As usual, Giovanni was sitting back on the ancient sofa, watching them closely and shooting a glance at me from time to time to see how I was reacting. I went over and sat next to him. He took me in his arms and kissed me on the forehead. Yana and Kateryna were entwined in a lengthy kiss: we could see their tongues hungrily seeking out each other’s most sensitive parts. Giovanni and I did the same. He gently took off the woollen jersey I was wearing. I was lying back, fascinated by the deep lesbian kiss and by Giovanni’s hands stroking me. Then I felt Kateryna’s cold hands caressing my back and reaching for the clasp on my bra.
17th December 1999
I was unable to respond to Kateryna. Throughout our journey back to western Europe, I tried to explain to Giovanni why I felt so bad about what had happened in Odessa. When we went our separate ways at Frankfurt airport, I wouldn’t accept the money he offered me for having gone with him. I didn’t want to be paid. I left Giovanni with a look of bewilderment on his face and caught my plane to Barcelona.
As I rode in a taxi into the city, images from our stay by the Black Sea flashed through my mind: the seagull, the way we had laughed in the sordid bathroom, the black pebble beach that cut our feet, Yana the little princess, still a girl but already capable of giving a blow job much better than me. And the ridiculous, grotesque surroundings with all that communist concrete: how surrealist it had been! The lesbian dance that Yana and her friend Kateryna had put on the night before in the dacha, and then the moment when Kateryna had started to caress my back and take off my bra. I could see everything so clearly. And what was clearest of all to me was that I was madly in love with Giovanni.
Change Of Century, Change Of Skin
19th December 1999
I WAS QUITE anxious when I returned to the brothel. All the girls were there. To my surprise Isa, who was preparing her trip to spend Christmas in Ecuador, took me by the arm and told Susana we were going out for a minute to have a coffee. She wanted to talk to me.
‘You know everybody’s crazy, don’t you? Men who pay to go to bed with women are crazy, but we women who agreed to go to bed with men for money are worse.’
‘Yes, of course. But what are you getting at, Isa?’
‘There are things the crazy girls in there have been saying about you, because they’re jealous.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like that you’re stealing all their clients, that you see them outside the apartment. For example that Pedro who comes every week, and who came back while you were ill, that Italian, and lots of others.’
‘What’s Pedro got to do with it?’
‘Well he came and hooked up with Mae, and she’s a real snake. He said he was madly in love with you and you would have nothing to do with him. She turned it round and said you were seeing him outside. Mae’s trying to get rid of you.’
These confidences seemed strange to me, especially coming from Isa.
‘I knew this would happen one day.’
‘Mae also says you’ve given the Italian your phone number.’
That was true, but Mae was only guessing, because she had no proof.
‘Obviously she can say what she wants about me.’
‘Yes, but Mae’s been here longer than you have, and it’s her Manolo will believe. You’re going to have problems.’
I’d already seen that Manolo could be violent, and what I was most afraid of was that he would do me harm.
‘There’s also a rumour that you’ve got AIDS.’
‘That’s a lie!’
That really was too much. In his snivelling to Mae about his unrequited love for me, Pedro must have told her about the torn condom episode. And she had embroidered the story to suit her own ends.
‘Who said that?’
‘Who else but the same crazy blonde? She’s trying to scare the clients so they don’t choose you any more.’
I was thinking of a thousand insults to hurl at Mae, but I had to control myself or I could be in still worse trouble.
‘If you tell them what I’ve just told you, they’ll think I’m an informer, so please, don’t say a word,’ Isa begged me.
‘Don’t worry, and thanks for telling me everything!’
We went back up to the apartment. Mae, who was dressing up to go out with a man old enough to be her father, shot cynical glances at us from her mirror. I pretended not to notice. Then Manolo appeared, followed by Sofia, who was on duty overnight.
‘Can I have a word with you?’ Manolo said, looking as grim as if he had just committed a murder.
‘Yes, of course,’ I said, determined to deny whatever he said against me.
I could see Mae’s face light up when she realized how angry Manolo was. She left with a final barb, ‘There’s going to be hell to pay,’ as she closed the door.
‘Is it true you see Pedro outside here?’ Manolo asked me.
‘No, it’s not,’ I said, speaking the truth. ‘Who told you that?’
‘The client himself.’
I was paralysed by shock.
‘Well, he lied to you. He tried to arrange to meet me several times, but I always refused.’
‘What about the Italian?’
‘I’ve seen him three times altogether. That’s all. Besides, he doesn’t live in Spain, so I don’t see how I could visit him outside the apartment.’ This time I was surprised at how well I could lie.
‘I’ve heard rumours that say different.’
‘Mae must have invented them to do me down.’
‘Why would she want to do that?’
‘How should I know? Because she’s jealous, I guess.’
‘Just remember that here we don’t like people trying to fool us. You’re lucky, because I don’t have any proof. But I’m going to keep an eye on you, and if I have the slightest doubt, you’re out on the fuckin’ street, get it?’
He was already waving his arms about and threatening me. Sofia was watching from the kitchen doorway, gesticulating at me to tell me to stay quiet or things could get really serious.
I didn’t feel I’d broken any rules of the agency, because I hadn’t seen Pedro outside, and I hadn’t charged Giovanni a cent. So I didn’t in any way feel I’d taken something that wasn’t mine.
In the end I said nothing to Manolo, because I wanted to go on working over the end-of-year holidays, although after the episode in the dacha in Od
essa with little Yana, the whole business was beginning to revolt me.
31st December 1999
The end of the century seemed to have awakened everyone’s libido, perhaps because of everything that had been said about it, that it would be the end of the world, that a war was bound to break out, that all the computers in the world were going to crash. People were afraid, and wanted to live their last hours fulfilling their wildest dreams.
Tonight we even had women coming in couples to live out those dreams. I was working all the time, with Cindy.
My mobile was switched off most of the night. When I put it on again I saw I had lots of messages, and started to listen to them.
Giovanni had tried several times to get in touch with me. He had left messages on my voicemail wishing me a happy New Year. He had also sent a text message, which was the greatest surprise of all.
‘It’s wonderful to talk about love, but it’s hard too. I think I love you . . .’ He wrote the last words in English, because he doesn’t know enough Spanish. That was the last thing I had been expecting.
The Rescue
4th January 2000
I TOLD GIOVANNI everything. What Mae had said about me, Manolo’s suspicions and threats, my personal situation and the fact that I thought I was in love with him too.
‘Get out of there at once,’ he shouted down the phone, desperately worried.
‘How am I supposed to do that? Besides, I’ve got my things there.’
‘Forget your things, and jump on the first plane. They might know where you live and go and try to beat you up. You need to come and spend some time in Italy. And when you return, change apartments. All right?’
I thought he was exaggerating a bit, but I could tell from his voice how nervous he was, so I agreed to everything.
23rd January 2000
Last night I dreamed of Granny. She was running through a dense forest, pushing a pram with rusty wheels. It must have been autumn, because the ground was strewn with leaves of all colours. Granny had put her hair up in a complicated chignon, doubtless to be more comfortable. She was disguised in a long black coat with buttons all the way down it, like a military greatcoat. She moved lightly and gracefully despite the thick piles of leaves under her feet. Then all at once she came to a halt, out of breath, and started to stroke the face of the baby in the pram.
Her caresses warmed my heart, and her sweet face comforted me. I felt as if she had always been there, that she had never been apart from me. She curled her fingers through the locks of my hair. I was overwhelmed by a sensation of infinite love, and when I turned to look up at her I could see her eyes were closed, but she was smiling because she knew I was looking at her. She seemed to be wearing pale pink lipstick, and her lips were moving all the time, as if she were trying to tell me something.
‘Rest now, little one.’
To emphasize his words, Giovanni clasped me to him even more tightly. We fell asleep again in each other’s arms, in this tiny hotel bedroom he has rented for me.
What Now?
HASSAN CALLED AGAIN. He is still trying to persuade me to go to Morocco to work with him. I refused. It doesn’t interest me, partly because I want to be able to enjoy the slightly bitter chemical taste of Coca-Cola once again.
I haven’t heard anything more from Felipe, but I know his business went bust. The idea of selling slices of life cannot have worked. No two ways about it: people are very boring.
Ever since she broke up with her violinist, Sonia has stayed single.
Angelika and I are still in contact. In fact, we’ve become great friends. However long we go without meeting up, it’s always as if we had seen each other the day before. But I haven’t heard a thing about Susana or Sofia.
I do know that the girls all left the brothel. Manolo was becoming unbearable, so they decided to move out. As far as I know, they are all still in the same line of work.
Carolina has broken off all contact with me, and I’m afraid she has probably fallen back into the arms of Jaime – whom I’ve started legal proceedings against, with no results so far.
Pedro has left his wife and over time, we’ve become friends. We occasionally go out for a drink, just to have a chat.
Giovanni and I are no longer together. We stay in touch, though. I’ve tried several times to explain the process I’m going through, which is reflected in this diary. He supports me and says yes to everything I say, in order to make me feel good. Perhaps he thinks he’s part of a very strange psychoanalysis. I know he does it with the best of intentions, and tells me I can always count on him. But it will never be the same.
I still have a very special relationship with my bathroom. It’s the place where I can get rid of all that’s still weighing on me psychologically, and sometimes physically too. Everything flows and gets flushed away; it’s just a question of pulling the chain.
I don’t feel sorry about anything. In fact, if I had to live it all again, I would probably do exactly the same. It may be hard to admit, and may seem strange to a lot of people, but the time I spent in the brothel gave me some of the happiest moments in my life, simply because it was there I met Giovanni, and there that I found the new woman I am today. I feel as though I’m changing my skin every day, like snakes do at different seasons. My skin now is much easier to bear – it’s subtle, soft to the touch, and more impermeable to everything around me.
But I wouldn’t want the reader of my diary to get me wrong. This book is not a mea culpa, nor the portrait of a victim of a harsh, unjust destiny. I am not trying to tell anyone anything. I wrote this for myself, and in that sense it’s a completely selfish gesture.
Yes, I have been a promiscuous, insatiable woman. That was because I saw sex as a means to discover what everybody is looking for: recognition, pleasure, self-esteem, or, to put it more simply, love and affection. What’s so pathological about that?
About the Author
Valérie Tasso was born in France and lives in Spain. She has worked at a senior level in corporate PR, and is now an actress and journalist. Her story first appeared in Isabel Pisano’s European bestseller about the hidden lives of prostitutes (Yo, Puta).
TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
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Originally published as Diarió de una Ninfomana by
Plaza y Janés, Random House Mondadori in 2003.
First publication in Great Britain
PRINTING HISTORY
Corgi edition published 2005
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Copyright © Valérie Tasso 2005
Translation copyright © Nick Caistor 2005
The right of Valérie Tasso to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This is a true story. The characters are authentic, the events are real. But the names and identifying details of certain individuals have been disguised in order to protect their anonymity.
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781407056531
ISBN 9780552772723
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
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