by Val
Just then, the electric intercom sounded.
‘A client! All of you, go to the bedroom and put some make-up on! That’s enough squabbling!’ said Susana. She turned to me. ‘You too, Val.’
We all ran into the small bedroom to change. We were taking our work clothes out of our bags, when I saw Isa staring at mine. I knew immediately what she was thinking.
‘Let’s see your bag,’ she said aggressively.
‘My bag?’ I said, bridling. ‘Why do you want to look there? You surely don’t think I . . .?’
She snatched it from me and emptied the contents onto the bed.
‘You can’t do that!’ I shouted.
‘If it wasn’t one of you, who else could it be?’ she asked, certain she was going to find her jacket among my things.
But it wasn’t there.
‘See? I didn’t take it!’
‘Come off it,’ said Cindy. ‘How could you imagine that this poor girl, who’s only just arrived, could have stolen your jacket?’
‘I didn’t ask for your opinion,’ Isa exploded, throwing the plastic bag back at me. ‘And anyway, she hasn’t just arrived. She stole a client from me yesterday afternoon.’
I really thought I must be dreaming. I wanted to defend myself, but Cindy responded before I could even open my mouth.
‘What are you talking about?’ she raged. ‘You think the clients are yours? For fuck’s sake! The clients come to the brothel, Isa, they don’t belong to you!’
I began to feel terrible with all this going on.
‘The problem is,’ Isa retorted, ‘that there are too many hens in this hen house.’
‘Of course,’ Mae butted in, furious as well. ‘You’d like to be the only one working here. That’s IMPOSSIBLE . . . get it, big silicone tits? We’ve got just as much right to be here as you have.’
‘I prefer having silicone breasts to droopy ones like you, fat ass,’ Isa snapped, to put an end to the argument.
I was afraid they were going to attack each other physically, but at that moment Susana came in to sort things out.
‘What are you doing? You can hear the noise out in the street. Come on, get ready because there’s a client and he wants to see all of you.’
I had decided to put on a black Chinese outfit for work that night. A really smart pair of trousers and blouse. Not too vulgar, but not too sophisticated either. Perfect, I thought. But I still had no idea how I was supposed to behave in front of a client, and I was upset at the row I had just witnessed.
‘Relax!’ said Cindy, who had obviously recovered much more quickly than me. ‘The client isn’t going to eat you.’
Isa was the first to go into the room. She strode in haughtily like a diva. She soon came out, and I was the next in. I found myself confronted by a youngster with a spotty face, who was obviously uncomfortable. I smiled at him.
‘Hello, I’m Val, and I’m French,’ I said, holding out my hand like an idiot.
The boy didn’t even look at me, and I knew at once he wasn’t going to choose me.
After we had all been into the room, and then learnt that he had chosen Estefania, Cindy asked me how I had gone about introducing myself.
‘God, no wonder he didn’t pick you!’ she laughed. ‘You have to seduce the client. Kiss him on both cheeks, don’t give him your fucking hand.’
‘Aha?’
‘Yes, otherwise he’ll get scared. You have to sell yourself. Oh, and don’t wear trousers. Put a skirt on, and the shorter the better.’
It was odd. Whenever I have met someone in the street or elsewhere who I’ve wanted, I’ve never had any problem getting him into bed. But here, everything was different. To start with there were other girls, so obviously I had competition. But also, I felt inhibited. I didn’t dare let myself go.
‘If you want to do this and earn money, you have to be the best f . . . of all,’ Cindy added. I was surprised she didn’t say the word full out.
‘What are you doing, giving her advice?’ Mae snapped as she took her make-up off. ‘Let her find out for herself! This job is hard enough without you teaching any newcomer the tricks of the trade so she can steal our clients.’
Cindy pretended not to hear, and turned to me.
‘Does what I said make sense?’
‘Yes, Cindy. And thanks.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’
She lay down on the bed, while Mae picked up her things and left, without saying goodbye. That left just three of us: Cindy, Isa and me. I decided to sleep for a while. Although I had not done anything, I felt exhausted.
The three of us were trying to sleep uncomfortably in the same bed, when Angelika flung open the door. I woke with a start: I’d been fast asleep.
‘Isa, get up will you? You have a client in a hotel in twenty minutes. I’ve already called you a taxi, so get a move on!’
With that she shut the door again, and Isa began to get ready. It’s bad enough being awakened in the middle of the night, but it’s much worse if you have to get up, put on make-up, and get dressed carefully. But Isa did not say a word. I looked at my watch: three in the morning. Good God! Who on earth could want a girl at this time of night? I looked round and saw that Cindy was still fast asleep, snoring like a dormouse. There was no sign of Estefania. She must still be with the same client in the suite. As Isa finished getting ready, I decided to get up too, because I was sure I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Instead, I went out into the kitchen in my pyjamas to talk to Angelika.
‘Hello, Angelika,’ I greeted her hoarsely.
She was painting her nails.
‘Hello! What’s up? Can’t you sleep? How did you get on tonight?’ she asked, raising her head for a few seconds before concentrating on her fingernails once more.
‘Nothing doing,’ I said. ‘Nothing at all!’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll see – as soon as you go back to bed, the phone will ring. That’s always the way. Work always comes when you least expect it. It’s hard to plan anything,’ she continued, twisting her mouth in distaste.
Isa appeared in the doorway, done up to the nines. Just then, the taxi-driver called on the intercom.
‘Here’s the address. Princesa Sofia Hotel. Room 237. Mister Peter. Call me as soon as you get there.’
Isa took the piece of paper Angelika held out to her, and left without a word.
‘She’s a bit odd, don’t you think?’ Angelika said to me.
‘Yes, she’s already caused trouble tonight.’
‘Yes, Susana told me. Oh well, she has her problems. Did you know she’s got two children back in Ecuador?’
‘She has?’ I said, stupefied.
‘Yes, but she never sees them. I don’t get it. She’s the one who gets most work here, she earns a fortune, and yet she doesn’t want to bring her children to Spain. As a mother, I just can’t understand her.’
‘You’ve got children too?’
Her face lit up.
‘I’ve got a wonderful boy,’ she said. ‘What about you?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘So you’re not doing this because you have a child to support? Good for you!’
I was surprised she didn’t go on to ask why it was I had started at the brothel. I felt almost obliged to explain myself, but before I could do so, Estefania appeared in the doorway. Her eyeliner was smudged, and she looked as if all she wanted to do was sleep.
‘He’s paying for another hour. Here’s the money,’ she told Angelika.
‘That’s great! You’re making a real night of it.’
‘Yes, but I’m getting pretty fed up with it as well.’
With that, she turned on her heel and left.
‘She does a lot, doesn’t she?’ I said.
‘She and Isa are the two busiest. She spends all the time here between Tuesday and Friday. It’s dreadful, isn’t it?’ Angelika said, visibly upset by the idea. Then she asked, ‘And do you know what the worst of it is?’
‘No.’
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br /> ‘She does it to keep a guy who spends the whole day doing nothing.’
‘I don’t understand. Is he her pimp?’
‘If she works here and he lives off her, I guess you could call him that,’ said Angelika, horrified.
‘Well, we’ve all helped a man at some point in our lives,’ I replied, remembering my own personal drama.
‘Well, I haven’t, that’s for sure! When I see the poor girls here working like crazy selling their bodies, I think it’s only right they spend all the money they earn on themselves, don’t you?’ She checked herself when she realized she had raised her voice. ‘I must speak more softly, the walls here have ears.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘The owners,’ Angelika replied, this time almost whispering.
‘The owners? What do you mean? That they have microphones and record all we say?’ I said, almost laughing out loud.
I was sure she was joking, but Angelika suddenly looked apprehensive and put a finger to my lips.
‘Shhh! They might hear you. And yes,’ she said, still in a whisper, ‘there are microphones everywhere, except here in the kitchen. They also record all the phone calls.’
‘What are you saying?’ I asked, terrified.
‘It’s true,’ she replied. ‘Haven’t any of the girls said anything to you? It’s to make sure none of them give their phone numbers to clients. And the phone line is tapped so the owners can check Susana and I are doing our job properly. Like something out of a film, isn’t it?’
‘It’s worse!’ I protested. ‘It’s wrong; it’s a violation of people’s privacy! How dare they keep tabs on us like that? Besides, if a girl wants to give a client her phone number, how are they going to stop her?’
‘I agree,’ said Angelika. ‘If you go to a hotel to see a client, you can do as you like. But you have to be very careful with the owner, Manolo. His wife Cristina is lovely, but he . . .’
‘I haven’t met him yet.’
‘He’s awful! He looks like your typical lorry driver. I call him a Neanderthal, if you know what I mean. He’s vulgar and super aggressive. You’ll meet him soon enough. They play a double game: he’s the one who gets angry; she’s the one who comforts people. They control all the girls as though they were their parents.’
So at last I’d found the famous lorry-driver pimp I was dreaming of! And Neanderthal as well! That sounded promising.
‘You’ll have plenty of time to find out everything I’m telling you is true. But please, don’t tell anyone it was me who told you, OK?’ Angelika almost begged me. ‘I don’t want to lose this job. I’ve got money worries, and although I do a few things in the daytime, this is what I live off.’
‘Of course I won’t say anything. Now I’m going back to bed, all of a sudden I feel really tired.’
‘Just one other thing,’ Angelika said, a serious look on her face. ‘Don’t trust Susana, the day manager. She’s crazy too.’
‘All right, I won’t. Thanks for the warning,’ I said, yawning and not paying too much attention to what she was saying.
So I went back to the bedroom, wondering why Angelika had been so open with me when she hardly knew me. It all seemed very strange, but one thing was plain: there was a lot going on, and I had to be careful. Manolo, the microphones, Susana . . . It all sounded like some TV soap opera. Then again, I couldn’t ask for too much. After all, this was a brothel. And besides, it all helped boost my adrenalin. For the first time in a long while, something was happening to me that I had chosen. And that’s what is best of all.
I opened the bedroom door as carefully as possible so as not to disturb Cindy. But she was in exactly the same position as before: lying on her side, sleeping like a baby. I reckoned nothing would wake her. I got into bed as well, and went back to sleep until all of a sudden Angelika came in again. Like before, she switched the light on and I woke up.
‘Hey, do you speak English?’ she asked, shaking me by the shoulder.
‘Yes, very well.’
‘Hurry and get up then. I’ve got a client in the Juan Carlos Hotel who wants a European girl who speaks English.’
It was awful having to wake up again. But it was worse still trying to make myself up. How on earth was I going to get rid of the dark circles under my eyes? I was beginning to find it much less fun. And this was only the first night I had spent in the brothel!
‘I’ll call a taxi. Come on, hurry up!’ Angelika insisted. ‘Here are the details of your client. He’s called Sam, he’s in room 315. He’s paying sixty thousand for an hour.’
When she heard the price, Cindy lifted her head a few inches, and then she wished me ‘Good luck!’ and fell back to sleep again. So that was what it took to rouse her: the mention of money. Estefania was sleeping alongside her. I hadn’t even heard her come into the room. She was already fast asleep, and had not even stirred. How many girls could fit into the bed? Later on, we got five of us into it. A world record!
It was five in the morning. Any client who wanted a girl at that time must be really starved.
I went downstairs as quietly as I could, and was annoyed to find the taxi had not yet arrived. Several drunks appeared out of a striptease club and tried to attract my attention, but I ignored them. I felt a huge gulf between them and me. I felt important: I was going to have sex with someone who was paying sixty thousand pesetas for the privilege, in a luxury hotel. A five-star hotel. And with a bit of luck, I was even going to enjoy myself. When I realized what I was thinking, I felt ridiculous. It was all a question of price.
The taxi-driver finally arrived. As soon as I told him the address, he realized why I was going. I could see him looking at me in the rear-view mirror, trying to strike up a conversation. But all I did was smile back at him, and say nothing.
When I got to the hotel, I walked straight to the lifts as purposefully as I could. I avoided looking at the receptionists, so that they would not ask me anything. I wanted to look like a guest. It worked. Nobody stopped me, and I was soon on my way to the third floor.
When the client opened the door, I found myself facing a very tall dark-skinned man. He looked Indian, and his sharp Asian features attracted me at once. The white bathrobe he was wearing gave him an endearing, friendly appearance.
‘Hello, are you Sam?’ I asked, responding to his welcoming smile.
‘Yes, you must be the girl from the agency.’
‘Yes. My name is Val. Pleased to meet you.’
He showed me in. My money was already on the bedside table.
‘You can take it,’ he said. ‘It’s yours!’
‘OK. Thank you,’ I replied. ‘Can I call my agency to say that everything is OK?’
‘Yes of course,’ he said, disappearing into the bathroom.
I called Angelika, then began to undress. Sam reappeared, and said I could use the bathroom if I wanted to. I thanked him for that too, while he served himself some red wine from the minibar.
I spent a very pleasant hour with him. He was very sweet, and although I didn’t have an orgasm, I enjoyed myself. He was very good at caressing me. Afterwards, he gave me a twenty-thousand-peseta tip and presented me with his business card, should I ever need anything. He promised to ask for me whenever he was in Barcelona. I had to rush out, because Angelika called to say the hour was up. I had completely forgotten about the time.
‘I’m not bothered,’ Angelika told me, ‘but if you do that with Susana, she’ll really cause problems. So make sure you watch the time. Otherwise, they’ll think you’re being paid more and are only giving them the fee for an hour, right?’
It was seven o’clock by the time I got back to the agency. I paid Angelika, but said nothing about the tip or my client’s business card. Then I went straight back to bed.
Manolo The Lorry Driver
3rd September 1999
NINE IN THE morning.
I was woken by terrible noise and the sound of some madman shouting at the top of his voice. I was alone
in the bed, and there was a pile of crumpled sheets in one corner. I got up and went straight to the kitchen to make myself a coffee. I ran into a stocky dark-haired man in shorts, a bumbag that was full to bursting around his waist. He was wearing a pair of loafers that made a strange contrast with his shorts. His bottle-green tee shirt had ‘I Love Nicaragua’ written on it. He looked furious, and Susana, who was with him, was as red as a tomato. He stared at me hard for a few moments, as if I were disturbing them.
I did not know who he was, but from the crass way he was dressed and the violence all too obvious on his face, I guessed this must be Manolo, the brothel owner. He was exactly as Angelika had described him. It seemed I was the only girl left in the apartment, and I felt a sudden stab of fear at being alone with someone like him. All the girls had vanished into thin air.
‘So who are you?’ Manolo said, breaking the ice as only he could.
‘Hello, I’m Val. I’m new here. I only started two days ago.’
‘Oh, yes! My wife told me there was a new girl. Hello, I’m Manolo,’ he said, shaking my hand roughly.
He did not look me in the face when I took his hand. He seemed preoccupied with something else. And he immediately launched into, ‘I was just telling this idiot Susana here that I don’t want any more fights between the girls. She’s the manager, and has to sort things out, right?’
What was he doing, asking me for my opinion in front of Susana? I didn’t think that was very proper, but how on earth was I going to tell a Neanderthal like him what I thought? So all I did was keep looking at him. In the few hours I’d been working in the agency, I had realized that you get work if the manager is on your side. If I fell out with Susana, I was sure she would never call me for a client during her day shift.
‘Did you hear me, idiot? I’ve had it up to here with the girls phoning me at home to complain. Either you do your job or you’re out in the fuckin’ street!’
How vulgar could you get? I couldn’t understand someone like Manolo. Why do people like him always have to conform exactly to the stereotype of the vulgar, violent pimp? If Susana really is crazy, as Angelika claimed, I could see why. With a boss like this guy, anyone’s brain would be affected.