by Val
‘You forgot that we record everything, idiot!’ Manolo was bellowing. ‘We’ve got Val’s voice on tape. Why was she answering instead of you? You’re meant to be in charge, aren’t you?’
I could see Angelika was getting very upset, so I decided to intervene.
‘She was in the bathroom,’ I explained, trying to provide her with an alibi.
‘Do you want to end up on the street as well?’ Manolo said, shouting even louder. ‘Why are you trying to defend her by lying? We know she was asleep. You yourself told Isa so. We recorded that too.’
I thought back to the previous night, and realized it was true. I’d really put my foot in it this time. Angelika and I exchanged looks, then she gathered her things and said she hadn’t the slightest intention of staying a moment longer in a madhouse like this, where everything she did was spied on even more than in the Big Brother house.
‘That’s right! Get your things: you know where the door is!’ Manolo shouted after her.
Angelika slammed the door so hard on her way out, the whole neighbourhood must have heard it.
‘Don’t worry,’ Manolo reassured me, ‘there’ll be a new person here tonight. And this time she’ll be a real professional!’
I found it hard to conceal my dismay, because Angelika was the only person I could talk freely to in the brothel. I also felt it was partly my fault she had been thrown out. All I had was her phone number, and I told myself I would call soon to keep in touch.
I felt upset all day at the way Angelika had been treated, then in the evening I went back to the agency to work. I was met by a new manager, a girl called Dolores, who looked as much of a call girl as the rest of us. She was on the thin side, with a good figure, long jet-black hair and huge honey-coloured eyes. A real doll. We said hello briefly, and I could tell she was making a great effort to be friendly. That seemed normal enough. Anybody would be apprehensive at meeting so many girls for the first time, and she felt she had to win us all over.
But when I went into the living room to leave my things, I had a big surprise. The girls were sitting there in silence, and they all looked very worried. This was the first time I felt they were all united.
They were all smoking cigarettes, and had obviously been doing so for some time, because all the ashtrays were full of butts. I could tell something was wrong and that they were very nervous. Cindy was the first to speak.
‘Sit down and shut the door.’
I did as she said. Something was not right.
‘What’s the matter with you all? Why are you sitting here like this?’ I asked, beginning to be worried myself.
‘What’s the matter?’ Isa echoed.
‘Can’t you see?’ Mae chimed in.
‘It’s a disaster!’ said Estefania.
‘I can kiss my Mercedes goodbye!’ Gina reflected out loud, staring into space.
As usual, the only one who said nothing was Barbie doll. I was sure she was planning her next session of plastic surgery.
‘We’re finished!’ Cindy exclaimed.
I still didn’t understand what they were talking about. What could have happened to have affected them like this? What could have made them all be in agreement for once? It was as though all their disputes had vanished by magic.
‘Why are we finished?’ I wanted to know.
I couldn’t stand to be kept in the dark any longer.
‘That woman . . .’ Isa began.
‘She’s sure to steal all our clients!’ Mae finished for her.
‘What do you mean? She’s the new night manager. Angelika was turfed out this morning, and Manolo told me they were going to take on a real professional,’ I explained, trying to calm them all down. ‘Why would she steal our clients?’
‘Because she’s so pretty,’ Estefania said. ‘And as soon as she realizes that they are only paying her a pittance compared to what we earn, she’ll start stealing our clients. You’ll see! It’s already happened here a long time ago.’
‘But that would be awful!’
‘They should never employ such an attractive manager. It’s always risky. I don’t understand why Manolo did it!’ said Gina.
The Barbie doll nodded, making sure her hair didn’t fly off at the same time.
‘Well, if you all say so . . . what shall we do?’
‘We have to stick together,’ said Cindy, ‘and we’re counting on you!’
‘Yes, we have to keep an eye on her and listen to everything she says to the clients. If there’s the slightest doubt, we tell Manolo,’ Isa said forcefully.
‘All right, you can count on me, but I really don’t think things will go that far.’
‘You’ll see,’ Gina predicted. ‘But for now, back to work as normal.’
Losing Angelika like that had brought us all together. We decided to ‘mount guard’. When not all of us were in the agency, those who were working had to keep a close eye on Dolores. That first night, she did her job exactly as she was supposed to: she was pleasant with us all, and we had nothing to reproach her with. Not a thing! I was beginning to think we could relax our state of high-security alert.
4th October 1999
Today there were a lot of calls from foreigners who did not speak a word of Spanish. And the problems with Dolores started. As I’m the only girl who speaks other languages, Dolores came in several times during the night to ask me to deal with them. I thought this was a bit much, but I agreed, as we all knew that sooner or later Manolo was going to find out what was going on, and this would be the perfect excuse to get rid of her. The agency telephone is tapped and at some point either he or Cristina would hear me speaking. Dolores had told them she spoke perfect English and French, so they would soon realize she had been lying to them.
The very next morning Manolo turned up at the brothel to talk to Dolores, or rather, to shout at her. He told her in no uncertain terms that he did not care how she did it, but that she was in charge and was the person who was supposed to take the calls, not us.
After this, Dolores began to sense that she was bound to lose her job sooner or later, and began to try to seduce all the clients. This was after a conversation I had with her.
‘Val, how much do you earn in a week?’
‘That depends, Dolores. It varies from week to week.’
‘Yes, but let’s say on average . . .’
‘Between six and seven hundred thousand pesetas.’
I was deliberately exaggerating a bit.
‘How much? That’s crazy! And I’m only getting two hundred thousand a month! That’s not right!’
‘No, but I have to open my legs to get it, and you don’t. So it seems fair enough to me.’
She thought about it, and I could see she was already considering how she could keep a few clients for herself and earn as much as possible before she lost her job. So the girls had been right.
6th October 1999
Today we caught Dolores giving her phone number to a client who visits us every week. We called Manolo, and although Dolores denied everything, by that afternoon she was out on her ear.
‘Get your things, and out into the fucking street with you!’ Manolo shouted at her.
Revolving Doors
7th October 1999
AFTER THE FIASCO with Dolores, the other girls no longer look at me as if I were the one who stole Isa’s clothes. And strangely enough, there have been no more robberies in the brothel.
The arrival today of Sofia was like a whiff of oxygen in a cardboard box full of tiny holes. She is around fifty, and looks like a leftover hippy in her long multicoloured skirts, her huge hooped earrings and a velvet hat. Right from the start, we all felt we would get on very well with this new night manager. She’s educated, gentle and there’s something about her that reminds me of my paternal grandmother. Her real passion is caring for animals; she adores them and is forever rescuing whatever four-legged creature she finds abandoned on the street.
I have always believed that animal lovers
must be kind-hearted and incapable of doing others harm. In Sofia’s case I’m right. She’s a sweet person, and extraordinarily generous.
Sofia has a little dog which she named Jordi to emphasize its Catalan roots, although these are non-existent. He’s a mongrel she found in a street in Paris, where she spent long periods with a lover, ten years earlier. Now, Jordi means everything to her: she’s even asked Manolo if she can bring him to the apartment sometimes, because she says that if she leaves him on his own, he gets depressed. Our lorry driver said yes, provided the dog did not bark in the middle of the night. I’m beginning to suspect that even Manolo has a heart.
I spent the whole night with Pedro, and when I returned in the morning, I offered to take Jordi out for a walk. As she was handing me the money I’d earned for the night and passing over Jordi, Sofia gave me a piece of advice.
‘Don’t be stupid. As soon as you’ve finished paying off your debts, start saving. Don’t do like the other girls, and spend it all on more clothes. Save as much as you can! And above all, don’t fall in love!’
But when love comes to call and it’s true love, it’s hard to resist. That’s what happened to me in this most unlikely of places, and with the most unexpected person. It was the tenth of October 1999.
I Meet Giovanni
10th October 1999
A LITTLE MORE than a month has gone by, and having sex with strangers no longer holds any kind of interest for me. It’s becoming nothing more than gymnastics. In these few weeks I’ve earned almost two million pesetas, and if this continues, I’ll be able to pay back my debts much more quickly than I had ever thought. If all goes well, I’ll have settled everything within five months. I intend to carry on working in the brothel for a little longer than that, to make sure I am back on my feet financially, and then change my life again.
This afternoon I was at home doing housework when Susana called.
‘Come quickly, I’ve got two Italian clients waiting for you. You have to hurry, because they’ve got a plane to catch. Is that all right, sweetheart?’
‘That’s fine. I’ll be there, but you know I can’t fly. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Tell them to wait.’
I got ready as quickly as I could. I only had to put on some make-up, then ran out into the street to catch a taxi. It must have been fate . . . not a single one free. More than half an hour had gone by since Susana first phoned, when my mobile rang again.
‘What are you doing, sweetheart? If you don’t hurry up, I’ll have to call another girl.’
‘I know, Susana. I’m trying to take a taxi, but it’s rush hour with everyone leaving work, and I can’t find one free. Please tell the clients I’m on my way, but there’s a lot of traffic. Please, Susana!’
On another day I would have got angry with her, but today something told me it was best to stay calm. I finally reached the agency an hour later, with my eyeliner all smudged from sweating in the taxi. Susana was furious, and the two Italians were on the point of leaving.
I went into the living room straight away. They were both very elegant, as only Italian men know how to be. One, called Alessandro, was short, fat and bald. The other was tall and thin, with a twinkle in his eye that made me warm to him immediately. Giovanni was not good-looking, but his face was calm and gentle. Unfortunately, as ever, it was not up to me to choose. I walked over to the small bedroom, and found Estefania and Mae sitting there. Both of them had already been out to show themselves, but only Estefania had been chosen: by Alessandro. I felt extremely relieved that I was going with the one I had liked best.
Mae was left empty-handed, sitting on the bed smoking a cigarette. She didn’t seem to hold it against me too much, because by now we had established a sort of code of honour between us: ‘It was me the client chose, so back off!’
When Giovanni and I went into the suite, he took a quick shower. I undressed, and when he came out of the bathroom he took me in this arms. I was surprised, because clients never normally do that: they prefer to get straight into bed. We embraced each other for a few moments, then he looked at me tenderly and we kissed. We both wanted to go on kissing; there was a kind of energy between the two of us that drew us together like magnets.
We were surprised at the strength of this feeling, and starting talking, about Italy and why he had come to Spain. While we were doing so, we could hear the groans of pleasure from the next room, where both Estefania and Alessandro seemed to be enjoying themselves. Our own sexual activity never reached such heights. In the end, I masturbated Giovanni because he was too tired to attempt anything else. I was more than satisfied with the kiss he had given me. What had happened between us was something special. I had the feeling I had known him all my life: his smell, his smile, his hands. When he left he said he would be back in two days, and hoped to see me again. He also asked what my real name was.
‘The one I told you. Val is my real name, I promise you.’
‘Dai! Non é vero. So che it tuo nome é differente.’ (Come on, that’s not true. I know your real name is different.)
‘No, no, believe me. I don’t use a different name for work, if that’s what you mean.’
He left the apartment laughing, promising that the next time I would tell him my real name and give him my phone number. I don’t know anything about him, and I have no idea whether I will see him again. Men promise so many things they never do. And yet deep down inside, something told me I would run into him again.
The Glass Man
11th October 1999
MEETING GIOVANNI MADE me think a lot about the path I have taken until now. I think fate is always playing with people, and that there are many different paths. I chose one, and, my lesson learnt, I ended up meeting Giovanni in a brothel. If I had never decided to become a prostitute, I would never have met him. We seem to have so little in common that the chances of our meeting were extremely remote . . . Deep down, all I am looking for is love. Blind dates, one-night stands, the brothel, all are simply means to try to find what I’ve always been searching for. Today I felt very pleased at my discovery, and wanted to show the whole world.
So with this wonderful feeling in my body, I went to work as usual, determined to spread a little happiness all around me. Little did I know that my ‘victim’ that night was perhaps the person most in need of it that I had yet to meet.
Sofia woke me at two in the morning, Jordi in her arms. I had a client. A new young man had called and asked for a European girl, someone who was particularly affectionate.
‘You’ll understand why when you get here,’ the client had explained to Sofia.
Isa and I were the only girls working that night, and Sofia knew she could not send her. Instead, she sent me to the client’s flat, which was in the upper part of the city, in a very nice building that had twenty-four-hour security.
When the client opened the door, I was unable to hide the surprise and fear on my face, even though I tried to stay as normal as possible. Iñigo greeted me with a smile, sitting comfortably in his wheelchair. He showed me straight into his living room, ‘because there’d be no point taking you into the bedroom’, as he said with a laugh. It was a large modern apartment, but there was a stale smell I found hard to take. All the doors were specially adapted to let a wheelchair through, and I began to feel very sorry for the boy, who could not have been more than twenty-six.
‘I’m almost completely disabled,’ he said, in the most natural way in the world.
When he said that, I almost collapsed into a corner of the sofa, then asked him if he minded me smoking.
‘I smoke as well,’ he said. ‘Could you light me one, and put it in my mouth?’
I immediately did as he asked, anxious to please him. He took several puffs on the cigarette, then appealed to me with his eyes to remove it. That was enough for him.
‘Thanks!’ he said. ‘And now, do you think you could lift me and put me down on the sofa? I could do it, but it takes such an effort.’
I felt a great
deal of respect for him, which made me hesitate for a few moments before I picked him up: I was afraid he might fall and shatter like a glass figurine.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I can’t feel a thing. The only places where I have any sensation are in my neck and a little in my hands.’
He seemed to have read my mind.
When I had settled him on the sofa, he asked me to take his clothes off. He was skinny; all his limbs had atrophied and his legs were no thicker than my arms. I felt very uncomfortable. To my astonishment, his small – tiny – prick was erect.
‘It’s like that all the time since my accident. It’s not that I’m aroused,’ he explained, ‘I don’t feel a thing down there.’
He burst out laughing again. I felt really stupid, and inwardly cursed myself for ever having wished myself dead. What right did I have to feel so miserable when real suffering was right there in front of my eyes, in the shape of this boy, who bore it with such vitality and good humour?
Obviously, nothing happened between us. I spent the hour giving him kisses all over his neck, and he thanked me from time to time with little moans.
I went back to the agency determined never to complain again. I resolved not to say a word about Iñigo to any of the other girls or the managers. Fate had sent me this episode to make me react, to live the present and seize whatever opportunity arises, without thinking twice about it.
What’s He Like? Where Did He Fall In Love With You?
12th October 1999
GIOVANNI CALLED AGAIN. Yes, he’s called again! He did as he said he would. And he said he would be waiting for me, with Alessandro, at four o’clock in the agency. Susana told me this morning, and I was jumping up and down I was so happy.
‘What’s up, sweetheart? You sound as if you’d heard wedding bells!’