I wonder if I passed out for a few seconds, because now Mrs Bianchi is wearing a black raw-cut cotton robe with big blue flower patterns all over it. She sits on the edge of the bidet, leans forwards and rubs the bubbles off my arm, which I’m resting on the side of the bath. Perhaps the last couple of days have been a dream and this is my reality.
‘You have attractive musculature, Mr Beckett.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Bianchi.’
‘My first name is Sakura.’
‘Cherry blossom.’
‘Oh, very good.’
She hands me a steaming glass with some sort of herbal tea in it.
‘For me?’
‘It’s ginger and red raspberry leaf. It’ll settle things down.’
‘Thanks. May I continue my interrogation of you? Pardon my nakedness, by the way, Sakura.’
‘That’s quite alright, Daniel. But I rather felt that it was me that was interrogating you.’
I take a sip of the tea. I feel a slight psychological disadvantage here, but I’ll press on anyway.
‘Tell me how you first encountered Viola.’
She sighs and puckers her lips. I can’t stop looking at her and she knows it. I think this is fairly close to the most insane professional situation I’ve ever been in. I take another sip of tea.
‘I have been involved in various aspects of the sex industry since I was fifteen. I am thirty-seven now. For the last five years, I have been running a discreet and highly priced escort service for bisexual and lesbian women. I was an escort myself and know the business pretty well. I’m still involved in other facets of the industry, but this service is now my main source of income.’
‘I didn’t know such a thing existed.’
‘There aren’t many of them, it’s true. There are perhaps half a dozen in London. I can’t speak for the rest of the country. Many of my clients are happily married women who feel that the time has come to experiment with same-sex relationships. Their lives are so structured that it is difficult to meet other women for one-off, physical trysts. I provide them with genuinely bisexual or lesbian women who are experienced with first-timers and also with clients who are more experienced. I’m sure you’ve come across the term bi-curious. I help to assuage that curiosity.’
She runs her fingers through her hair and tugs and twists the long strands. I realise that I must have prevented her from drying her hair properly by calling. The tousled look is very fetching, though, but I keep this to myself.
‘But they’re not all naïve, bi-curious housewives by any means. Many of them are ordinary lesbian or bisexual women who know exactly what they want and just need that type of physical relief when they’re in London on business, for example. But all of them have the same basic requirement: that the women they hire must be beautiful, intelligent and be able to be seen with them outside the bedroom. Perhaps they want to spend an evening at the theatre or have a meal in a restaurant. It all depends on the client.
‘My girls have to be versatile, sophisticated and should ideally have a working knowledge of a few foreign languages. It’s nice if they’re university educated and are well spoken. The clients like that. Some of the girls, the bisexual ones and the lesbian ones, had worked as ordinary call girls, doing one-on-one with men and also threesomes with men and women. Working like this was a relief for them. It was not difficult for me to find enough high quality talent. In fact, once I was up and running, I had more offers than I could handle.’
‘So Viola was one of your girls.’
‘Yes. I don’t really have much to do with someone like Emile Novak. He is a distasteful man and I’ve heard terrible stories about the things he gets up to with his girls, but there’s a loose network of people in a similar business and a certain amount of trading goes on from time to time. Novak is old school. His glory days are virtually over now, thankfully.’
‘Novak said that he was having trouble with Viola’s drug intake and with her lack of enthusiasm for the job.’
‘That would be about right. Viola was truly bisexual with a preference for women, like some of the women I just described. I think if she could have started off with just women, she’d have been quite happy with that. Women who hire call girls are not so angry, not so resentful, not so sad, not so desperate, not so ignorant, not so unhygienic, not so violent, not so stupid and not so unpredictable.’
My stomach turns as I think of all the shit she’d had to put up with at the hands of Novak. Presumably Mrs Bianchi knows all about that. ‘I’m going to get out now. This bath is starting to get uncomfortably tepid.’
‘As you wish.’
I step out of the bath onto a soft, white bath mat. Sakura gently pats me dry with a huge pink towel and hands me another one to put around my waist, which is useful in more ways than one. I feel a little better. She notices an old scar on my left side, five inches under my armpit. Her fingers gently trace the line from back to front. I really wish she wouldn’t.
‘How on earth did you get that?’
‘It’s from a skinning knife. It’s a butcher’s tool.’
‘Argument in a butcher’s shop?’
‘Yeah, it was over the weight of some mince.’
‘Ah.’
She watches me get dressed. I can’t read the expression in her eyes.
‘So you bought Viola from Novak.’
‘That’s right. I could see through her failings. I knew what she was. On top of that, she was a true beauty and had a firm, voluptuous figure that I knew many of my clients would appreciate. She was one of those women who made the mouth water. I knew that other women would see what I saw when they looked at her.’
I’d like to ask how much Viola cost, but I don’t think I will.
‘She was beautiful, you’re right. I’ve seen a couple of photographs of her.’
‘I brought her to live here, with me. Her looks were not yet ruined and I sought to renovate her. My first task was to get her off heroin. I have been a heroin addict myself, in my time, but I would never have described myself as a junkie. I loved the ecstasy of it and I adored the thrill of the needle, the orgasm of the rush. It fitted my personality and I will never be apologetic for my craving. Viola, however, was a junkie, in my terms at least. She took heroin to forget and obliterate and had a psychological addiction as well as a physical one. I knew it would be difficult to rear her away from it, but I thought it was worth the attempt. I thought I could get her to forget and obliterate through sex.’
‘So what did you do? Cold turkey?’
‘Basically, yes. But not too suddenly. It took ten days. I gave her diazepam, among other things. Got her drinking a lot of water, isotonic drinks, herbal teas. Does this sound terribly New Age? I hope not. It was total murder some of the time and she attacked me on several occasions. I put up with it all. I used to spend hours holding her in my arms. Gradually, she started building up her strength again. Then, she was ready for her training.’
‘Training? In what?’
‘She needed to learn how to entertain my clients. How to talk to them, how to be a good companion to them, how to make love to them in such a way that they truly felt they’d had their money’s worth. I like them to leave my girls feeling that they have experienced something wonderful, astounding and electrifying.’
‘You were like a one-woman finishing school.’
This makes her smile. ‘If you like, yes. She became my lover and she became the lover of two of my girls; sometimes separately, sometimes in combination. By the time we’d finished with her she was confident and assertive. The whole process took several months. She was a pearl. She liked to lose herself in the act, which my clients loved.
‘I know she had problems and I know this life wasn’t the perfect one for her, but at least I’d removed her from Emile Novak and at times she seemed genuinely happy, as happy as any whore can be. We started her with the more inexperienced clients, and then very quickly moved her up. After six months she became the star and we upped her
price to the top level.’
‘Were you in love with her? Is that a silly question?’
‘Not, it’s not a silly question at all. We were lovers, and sometimes it was very intense indeed. We each took each other to places that neither had been to. I think I was in love with her as much as you could be in love with someone like Viola. Because of what she was doing night after night, day after day, I had to keep a certain emotional distance. One of the other girls, Molly, was infatuated with Viola, but the feeling was not reciprocated. We got on very well, though. She trusted me and yes, I suppose we loved each other as much as it was possible. I’ve never spoken about this to anyone before. Perhaps it’s because you’re a stranger.’
She has tears in her eyes. I think she was more attached to Viola than she was letting on. I smile at her. ‘Well, I won’t tell anyone.’
She brightens. ‘I taught her tantric massage, too. I’d been on a two-month course in Beauvais a while ago. I wasn’t a qualified instructor or anything, but it’s not too difficult to pass the knowledge on if you’ve had enough practical experience. I’ve read quite a bit on the subject, too. Viola became very good at it very quickly. She was a fast learner. From the first time that she practised on me, I knew she was a natural. Have you ever had a tantric massage, Daniel?’
‘Not so far. Perhaps you could get a job in a spa one day.’
She laughs at the thought. ‘Yes. Perhaps I could. How is the interrogation going? Have you got enough out of me yet?’
‘Very useful. Just one thing – does Viola still live here? In theory, at least?’
‘Oh no. Once she was up and running, so to speak, she was able to rent a place of her own and a very nice place, too. Belsize Park. Would you like to take me to lunch?’
*
I sit down on one of the Bauhaus chairs and read a magazine called Femme Actuelle while Sakura gets ready. My kidney pain is not so bad now, but it’s still there. I must remember to take a look at the colour of my urine the next time I take a piss. The last thing I want is to have to go into a hospital and have a load of tests done. My chest is painful where I took those kicks, and at first I thought she might have broken a couple of ribs, but I’m not so sure now. I’ll wait a week and see how it feels before I think about having an X-ray. The damage most likely to leave a mark, of course, is the side of my face, after the hammering it took against that wall. I took a look in the bathroom mirror and it looked OK, but I can really do without getting a black eye or sustaining comprehensive facial bruising; it just makes you look conspicuous and sinister, two looks that it’s best to avoid in my business.
I wonder to myself whether Sakura would be known as a pimp or a madam. I’m not really sure about the nomenclature used in her profession. I may ask her when we get to know each other a little better, if having already seen each other naked doesn’t count. I can feel her presence in the room.
‘Shall we go?’
To say she looks amazing would be an understatement. She’s wearing a short tight-fitting burgundy velvet dress with wide bodice lacing up both sides from the bottom of the dress to the armpit. This design can obviously not be worn with any underwear. Stockings are out, too, but this hardly matters. She has great legs with a natural tan and is wearing a pair of burgundy velvet ankle strap four-inch heels. Her jet-black hair is swept off her face and held in place by gel. Add to this a slash of bright red lipstick and a touch of blue eye shadow and the effect is stunning.
‘I – I don’t know what to say. You look amazing. I almost forgive you for beating the crap out of me earlier on.’
She laughs again, placing her hand in front of her mouth. This is a very Japanese gesture and I wonder where she was born.
‘There is a pub around the corner that serves meals,’ she says. ‘Perhaps we could go there.’
I’d seen a sign for a pub while I was sitting outside the Costa, but I hardly think she’s dressed for a pub, no matter how classy it may be. It’s almost as if she never goes anywhere and isn’t aware of normal dress codes.
‘A pub? Are you sure?’
‘Are you ashamed?’
‘What?’
‘Are you ashamed to be seen with me?’
I can’t tell if she’s being serious. ‘Of course not. Quite the opposite. I just thought you might want to go somewhere classier.’
‘No. The pub will be fine.’
The pub is about five minutes’ walk away from her flat. We talk about nothing in particular, though there’s a lot I still want to ask her about Viola. I want to know who booked Viola three weeks ago and I still need to discover the name that Viola was booked under so that I can talk to hotel staff about it.
I don’t want to push her too hard, though. I can feel she’s holding things back and I want the information to flow naturally. If she volunteers any more titbits, they’re more likely to be true than anything that might come out as a result of my questioning. I also think she’s more delicate than might immediately be apparent.
‘How do people book girls from you, Sakura? Tell me how it works.’
I watch her face as we walk along. For some reason, she’s looking a little jumpy.
‘I have a website. At the moment, there are twenty-four girls on it. The site makes it quite clear that this is for women only. I have had enquiries from men asking if I could supply a bisexual girl for them and their girlfriend, but I always say no. That is not what this is about. Besides, when men are involved, there is the risk of danger to the girls. And there is the hygiene. Men do not tend to take care of themselves. A few of my girls have worked in conventional prostitution and have had disgusting experiences that they are in no hurry to repeat.’
‘So if I was a woman seeking an escort for the evening, how I would I choose which girl I wanted?’
‘There are…’
She suddenly grabs hold of my forearm. For a second, I think she’s going to attack me again or has seen someone she wants to avoid, but it isn’t that. She looks pale and distressed and I can’t imagine what the matter is.
‘Sorry, I – we’ll be in the pub soon. I’ll be OK. I hope I’m not hurting your arm.’
‘Of course not.’ Actually, that’s a big lie. Her grip is strong and it’s quite painful. If she had shorter fingernails it wouldn’t be half so bad.
As soon as we get inside the pub, she lets go of my arm and perks up a bit.
‘Sit down,’ I say, pointing to a table away from the window. ‘I’ll get you a drink. What would you like?’
‘Thank you – just a glass of white wine. It doesn’t matter which type.’
I go to the bar and have a look around while I’m ordering. It’s one of those pubs that is attempting to turn itself into a fashionable restaurant. The food is traditional pub fare but with a gourmet twist. It’s still not very busy. There’s a bunch of loud guys in suits at the far end of the bar and a couple sitting holding hands three table away from where Sakura is waiting. She’s composing herself from whatever the problem was out there. She takes a compact mirror from her handbag and reapplies her lipstick. The guys are just starting to notice her.
I get her wine and another for myself, pick up a couple of menus and sit down across the table from her. She smiles, but it’s a fake, nervous smile.
‘Here we are. Here’s your drink and here’s a menu.’ I suddenly wonder whether I should be drinking alcohol.
‘Thank you, Daniel. I’m sorry about what happened out there.’
‘That’s OK. To be honest, though, I’m not actually sure what did happen.’
‘I am agoraphobic. It doesn’t happen everywhere, but I start to get panic attacks under certain circumstances. It was the whole thing; the street, the cars going by, the people walking and talking. It’s as if the whole thing was just too big and I’m afraid it’s going to envelope me and crush me. I get a bad feeling about it and I want to go and hide somewhere quiet. I’ve been working on controlling it, but it’s difficult.’
‘Are you OK now?’
‘Yes. It seems to be fine in here. That’s why I didn’t want to go anywhere else. I didn’t want to have to walk around for too long.’
‘What d’you mean it seems to be fine? Do you get it indoors as well?’
‘Sometimes, yes, I do. If I’m in a strange or unfamiliar place, or – I don’t know – a really big place, like a museum, with big high ceilings. It can come on then. But it can also happen in ordinary spaces if I feel stressed for some reason. It can feel as if the room is expanding and I get the same feeling as I did outside just now.’
‘Have you seen anyone about it?’
‘I saw a cognitive psychotherapist for six months. She showed me how to control it. It’s much better than it was before I started seeing her, but it can still take me by surprise. There was a period where I couldn’t go out at all. I’m still a little afraid of going anywhere new in case I start panicking.’
‘But you feel it’s improving?’
‘Yes. If I take things slowly. I sometimes take a walk around the block and sometimes go further. It’s better at night when there aren’t so many people around and it isn’t so noisy.’
‘Here – have a menu.’
She gives me a shy little smile and takes it. Her colour’s coming back, but there’s still a small trace of sweat on her upper lip. The demon on my shoulders wants me to kiss that sweat away, but I manage to swat him onto the floor. She seems relieved that she’s told me about this and I can feel that she’s relaxing a little more. To my surprise, she orders bangers ‘n’ mash, but the sausages are venison and red wine and the mash is mixed with mustard and red onions. I have the same. A very short guy takes our order.
While we’re waiting, she takes a sip of her wine and laughs to herself. ‘As you can imagine, I don’t go on dates very often.’
‘Is this a date?’
Kiss Me When I'm Dead Page 17
