“You mean I have to pay you?”
“Correct. The house provides a safe and clean place for you to do business. In exchange, you pay rent for the booth you work. I can’t tell you how important it is to get that straight.”
“Understood.”
He glanced at the application. “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He made a downward motion with the cigarette that was self-explanatory.
Rachel had steeled herself for this moment. The assistant parked himself in the corner and wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t think there would be anyone else in the room.
She slipped off her shoes, making herself shorter and instantly more vulnerable. As she pulled off her top, Rachel stole a look at the man through the weave of the clothing as it passed before her eyes. It was the only way she could face him. The bra stayed on.
“Miss―” He looked at the ID. “Lisa, I just want to see your body. How you get there isn’t important right now. In other words…” He tapped his watch.
She removed her pants and folded them neatly, but there was no place to hang them. She made a small pile on the floor.
“That bra come off?”
“It comes off.”
“You’re not going to cry on me are you?”
She shook her head, no longer trusting her voice. The bra came off.
He smoked.
Rachel fixed her hair.
“If you can’t do it here, you won’t do it in the booth. You’ve got a nice body, is that what you want to hear?”
Rachel took off her panties and held them in her fist.
“Turn around a couple of times, up on your toes. That’s good. You’re hired. I see you need the four to nine shift, Monday to Wednesday. Okay. You get forty-five minutes for dinner and a fifteen minute break. I got a booth sitting idle right now. You ready to start?”
Rachel wished he would avert his eyes for just a moment, so she could put her underwear back on. She found herself having to talk while dressing.
“Do you have a ladies’ room?”
“Sure thing.”
Rachel sat on the toilet with her face in her hands, sobbing. When that was over, she washed her face and, inevitably, had to look in the mirror. She didn’t look much different than when she had cried about bad test scores.
“Somebody suppose to be workin’ number twelve,” said a black girl, sticking her head in the door. “You―you workin’ number twelve?”
“Number twelve?” asked Rachel.
“That your booth, is what I’m askin’. Boss wants you in it ASAP.”
As she brushed her hair, the strokes grew harder as did her stare into the mirror. She had put herself here for a reason, a good one. She wasn’t going to let herself down.
he girls stood outside the booths, which consisted of a small compartment for the paying customer and a larger one for the girl with enough room for her to lie down in. It was furnished with a plastic chair. Separating them was a three-eighths-inch Plexiglas window. The customer bought tokens for five dollars each, good for one minute. During this time, the two talked via telephone. He gave her instructions, she obliged.
An opaque partition descended when the time was up and the viewing and the conversation, if any, was over. There was a tip slot at the top of the booth. For ten dollars a girl took off all her clothes. Other requests were negotiated for additional tips and tokens.
The house rules were posted in front of the booths. NO CONTACT BETWEEN THE CUSTOMER AND THE MODEL. NO CAMERAS ALLOWED INSIDE THE BOOTHS.
It was late afternoon, and the first stragglers from work were stopping in for a little voyeurism. The men spanned all classes. There were businessmen in three piece suits, bikers, old men who dug into their social security checks to come here.
Rachel had to have a hundred dollars for Perlman by the end of the shift. Plus another forty to pay for the red body suit she had to buy. As she stood outside booth twelve, her life was unrecognizable from what it had been a half hour ago. Worse, there was no sign of Sonia. None of the girls fit her description. And did she go by Sonia or an alias like Candy or Kat or Sugar or whatever?
A black girl in a gold bikini who had been dancing nearby finally spoke to her.
“Sweetheart, you can loosen up. You ain’t guardin’ Buckingham Palace.”
Rachel forced a smile. As she turned away, a middle-aged CEO type thought the smile was for him and approached.
He entered his side of the booth.
“Well, go on, baby, he’s a good tipper,” said the black girl.
The door of the booth opened. “You coming?” said the customer.
Rachel closed the door behind her.
When he put in the token, the opaque screen came up, leaving Plexiglas between them. He looked like a warden peering into a gas chamber.
The customer put a bill into the tip slot. “Aren’t you going to take it?”
“I was going to take it after.” Her hand went up and fumbled for the money. It was a twenty.
The customer told her what he wanted her to do.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. You better have this back.”
She thought she could stall long enough for the session to end, but time itself was distorted in this place.
“What can you do?”
She took off the body suit as slowly as she could.
The customer asked her to sit in the chair and do some things with her legs. She complied.
“You didn’t earn that,” were his last words as the partition came down.
Another one like that and she’d get fired.
Another suit walked in.
“And, what’s your name?”
“Lisa.”
“This is for you, Lisa. Haven’t seen you here before.” He slipped a twenty-dollar bill through the slot.
“I just started today.”
“What are you going to do for me, Lisa?” She was hoping they could continue the conversation.
“I didn’t catch your name.”
“Okay. I’ll give you a name. Phil. Phil Ashio.”
“That’s pretty clever.”
“Tell you what, why don’t you undress while we talk?”
She forced a smile and began the ritual. First the straps of the body suit, then turning her back as she pulled it down over her shoulders.
“You’re not stalling me, are you? That’s the second time you’ve looked at your watch. Here goes another token. Why don’t you try facing me, so I can see something?”
Think of it as a medical exam.
She began to slowly work the body suit over her hips while she faced him.
“I don’t mean to rush, but I have a meeting across town in thirty minutes.”
“You know what I do for a living, what do you do?” she asked.
“Risk Management. That’s very nice. Let’s lose the bottom.”
She removed the bottom.
“Open your legs. Open yourself up.”
The customer quickly undressed. Rachel couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Beneath his Barney’s suit, he wore black fishnet stockings, a garter belt, and a matching bra. When he was done doing what he was doing, he left without a word to go to his meeting.
She rushed to the ladies’ room. She had gone this far. It couldn’t get any worse. She might as well try to get what she had come for. Stay. Stay a little longer.
Over the next three hours, seven men gave her their business cards along with forty-dollar tips. They wanted dates and some came right out and offered money for sex. Time had never passed so slowly, and nine o’clock seemed like it would never come.
After every customer, Rachel had to call in Bob, the mop-up man. He walked around with his bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels. Did he grow up wanting to do this? Was there no bottom to human depravity?
During her fifteen-minute break, Rachel was called in to Perlman’s office. She immediately began to perspire.
He stared at her.
“I just want to
tell you that if you lose your looks, you’re out. I give my girls drug tests every so often. On another subject, I can introduce you to a friend of mine who makes adult videos. He’s looking for girls.”
“I’m not interested.”
“That’s very decisive. The offer stands. A young girl like you can make a lot of money in the business. Much more than by taking your clothes off.”
For the first time in her life, she wished she was a man. She wished she could grab Perlman, throw him up against a wall and get information out of him. Squeeze the truth from his thorax, make him pay. Never had she entertained such thoughts of hate.
She spent the rest of her break in the bathroom. Rachel knew she had to get to know other women in this place if she was to succeed in getting anywhere. At the same time, she would have to set a time limit for herself: if she didn’t find Sonia and a substantial lead in the next four days, she was quitting. She could feel herself falling, sinking, and at some point, she would be lost.
hen the partition came up, Rachel picked up the phone as she had thirty-two times before. A smooth baritone voice came over the line, and Rachel now waited for the demands he had just paid for.
“It’s late in the day,” said the young man in a blue suit.
“Yeah. Been a long day.”
“I noticed you as soon as I reached the top of the stairs. You’re new, aren’t you?”
“First day.”
“You have a fresh face.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m just making an observation. What’s your name?”
“Lisa.”
“I’m Michael. Pleased to meet you. I know you must be tired, so I won’t take up too much of your time. I know you hear this twelve times a day, but I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me tomorrow. I’m single, thirty-six, and solvent. And I’m told I have a nice smile.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I have a boyfriend.” Now she waited for the humiliating requests.
“It’s just that I’m a big concert and theater goer and I’m looking for someone to share that with.”
“I’m going to ask an obvious question. Why would you come here looking for a concert-lover?”
“It’s one of the few places you can ask a woman that question without her walking away two seconds later. Are you a concert-lover, Lisa?”
Talking beats stripping, thought Rachel.
“It so happens I love classical music, especially sacred music as ironic as that may sound. As for theater, I guess you’d say I’m involved in the performing arts.”
That made them both laugh and the partition came down at precisely that moment as if it were the end of act one. It came up again.
“I’m back,” said Michael.
“Good to see you again.”
“Where were we? So do you go to shows like Jersey Boys?”
“I love Jersey Boys, but I don’t do much of that. It’s pretty expensive.”
“Ticketron sells those half-price tickets, but you have to go on the same day you buy them. And there are clubs you can join that get you pretty good discounts. Or you can go with me next week and it won’t cost you a thing.”
She laughed.
“I find you not only attractive, but interesting, Lisa.”
“I appreciate that, but really, I can’t.”
“Well, I don’t want to be insistent. In case you change your mind, here’s my card. And this is for you. Good night.”
It was fifty dollars.
Rachel opened her purse and stared at all the money. She couldn’t bring herself to count it, but it had to be at least four-hundred dollars. She killed another fifteen minutes in the booth and went to the ladies’ room. By the time she emerged, she just had to stand outside her booth for another ten minutes before quitting.
“I see you got the customer-of-the-month,” said a Puerto Rican girl in the dressing room. “I think he splits his time between here and Lincoln Center.”
“Ever go out with him?”
“Never asked me. I guess I don’t strike him as a Mozart-lover.”
“I’m Lisa.”
The other girl didn’t mention her name, but Rachel had heard her called Tanya. She had small scars all over her face covered with heavy makeup.
“You just starting?” asked Rachel.
“My shift or this career?”
“Your shift.”
“Yeah. Eight to midnight. That’s a sorry-ass shift. Not too many Wall Street types at that hour. More like the Hospital/White Castle types. But I’m not a day person anyway.”
“And when did the career start?”
“Probably the day I came into this world. But I remember walking in here two years ago and actually filling out the application, fulfilling destiny.”
“You don’t believe this is destiny, do you?”
“What then?”
“I kind of think we put ourselves here.”
“Like hell we do. This shit’s the wheel of karma running over my face.”
Rachel was too drained to pursue this. She finished dressing and tied her hair back.
“How much do I tip the bouncer?” asked Rachel.
“Twenty’ll do. You can pay that in various coins, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ll pick greenbacks.”
“And don’t forget the jizzmeister.”
“I feel for him. What does he get?”
“Ten will do.”
Tanya went off to her booth before Rachel could ask anything else. It was just as well; she was spent.
It was going to be a long ride back and an even longer night. She felt like she had a tumor in her stomach. She took the express at Penn Station, then transferred at Ninety-Sixth Street to the Number One Local to One hundred and Sixteenth Street, the Columbia stop.
In her room, she looked around for a place to hide the cash and settled on the battery compartments of her PC speakers. Grabbing a towel and a change of clothes, she slipped into the bathroom at the end of the hall, praying she didn’t run into anyone who would want to engage in conversation. After soaping herself twice in the shower, she knelt down and let the water pour over her as she cried.
Over the years, she had acquired the skill of putting things out of her mind. To what extent was it justified to abase yourself when you’re trying to do something good? She could inform Joules that the parallel dimension was no paradise. Somewhere out there, the real Rachel Wallen was still untouched. She wanted that Rachel back, and yet she knew that tomorrow she would go through it all again.
Men’s needs were horrible. Perfectly normal and accomplished men harbored unspeakable desires. Now she was being pulled into these desires as Olivia was. Rachel was retracing her sister’s steps all too well. What was at the end of that road?
She called her mother to tell her everything was okay. There was no news, of course. These calls had always been awkward. Hers was not an affectionate family. Her father had a great sense of responsibility toward Rachel and Olivia, and her mother was dutiful, but it just didn’t work the way she’d seen in other families. When she had gone to summer camp one year, she often heard her friends end a call with, “Love you, Mom.” With her it was always, “Okay, glad everything’s okay. Bye now.” It was different with Olivia. She gave more love to her parents than Rachel, and Rachel knew that they loved her more. How could it be otherwise?
Rachel lay in bed reviewing the day.
Day one: She had thirty-three customers. That’s nothing to be proud of, but it was more than any of the other girls and it probably generated some jealousy. That’s the last thing Rachel wanted. She wanted to blend in and disarm them all, so they would open up to her.
Sonia had better show up soon. She had to get Sonia to like her and get her to confide. She had to know something more about Olivia. Why would she confide in the police? They had to be close to make porn movies together. It was still hard for Rachel to believe that Olivia did all those things, but then Rachel was on the same path. Yo
u give someone the right reasons and they’ll do anything. Anyone can be blown off course. Olivia had to have been doing it for Achara. None of this would have happened if her parents had tried to get her out of that brothel. Everything would be like before.
And what was Rachel going to do about Achara? She promised to help, and she had to keep that promise. Did Olivia really request a passport for her? What if she didn’t get around to it before she disappeared? What would it cost to get a fake one? That’s much harder because of all the security now, the holograms and such. Achara had it much worse. Rachel could walk away anytime she wanted. She had to keep that in mind when things got bad.
In the meantime, she’d gotten to know two girls, somewhat, but was getting strange looks from Mr. P. Looks like he’s got a whole career path planned out for me, she thought. He must know more than he was letting on, too.
Rachel didn’t want to be a hero. She just wanted her sister back. She thought of that middle-aged man in the plane that plunged into the Potomac years ago. When the rescue helicopter arrived, he kept passing the rescue line to the next person and the next until he was the last, and then he drowned.
cKenna had gotten nowhere with Sonia. Today, he had called the Pleasure Palace to get her phone number. What he really wanted was her phone records to see if she and the priest were in contact. But she used disposable cell phones, according to her. Great. So there was no way to confirm if Massey was lying about knowing her. None of the kids at the shelter were much help either. They all just said they loved Olivia. She was good to them.
Two girls from Transcendence House end up stripping in the same joint. Coincidence? McKenna didn’t believe in coincidence. When the National Guard was ordered to stand down in Dallas on the morning of November 22, 1963, that was no coincidence.
He had put that to Father Massey and the priest just dismissed it, saying that recidivism was the norm, not the exception. There weren’t many sex emporiums left in New York, so it didn’t strike him as unusual that two people who were connected with the same organization at different times might end up working in the same place.
The Schwarzschild Radius Page 8
