Chapter 10

Back at that door. The buzzer. The camera. The empty square behind her with the streetlamps, the parked cars. The same menacing buildings, and the same sense of desolation, but now things were more familiar. Alice was starting to feel a better understanding of the lives that were unfolding all around her.

There was no question this time. The door unlocked with a buzzing sound that ended in a faint click.

Phil somehow had too much class to give her figure the appreciatively look he probably wanted to give her. He just smiled with the mutual recognition. He motioned to opened the door, but Alice shook her head.

'Later. First, I need to talk to the boss.'

She walked into the small office. The fat woman was smoking a cigarette and doing the crosswords. Alice noticed that, in a few cases, she had written longer words and added extra letters outside the frame.

'Shame felt in public. Thirteen words,' the manager asked Alice.

'Embarrassment.'

She tried it.

'Can't be. Too short.'

'Two R's. Two S's. And it starts with E, not I. It ends with a T.'

'But I need it to start with an I.'

'We need many things.'

'Yes,' the old woman philosophised, and threw the booklet to one side. 'I've fucked it up, anyway. So, what do you need?'

'I want to work here.'

The woman laughed. It sounded like rocks and mucus were being stirred inside a metal bucket lodged inside her.

'You? Here? Is this a joke? I'm proud of what we do, but I have no illusions that we – '

'I like it here. It's more my style,' Alice said, matter of fact. Inside she was trembling: a new challenge she was putting herself through, another leap into the darkness.

The woman looked at her shrewdly now.

'Make me understand. You want to work here, five days a week, eight hours, be one of the girls?'

'Not exactly.'

Another disgusting laugh.

'Not exactly! So, you want to pick and choose?'

'I want to come when I want, and do what I want. You keep your cut.'

'My cut. I already have my cut,' the fat woman said, planting her eyes onto Alice, 'Why do I need you? You're just going to spoil the business. You will piss off the girls. Coming and going… Picking and choosing.'

Alice knew the woman was just after a bigger cut. Alice was just five percent, and this woman was another Tom willing to exploit her. But she didn't care: this was her choice.

'I'm sure your customers wouldn't mind a change of menu for once,' Alice said running her fingers along her figure. She was wearing a striped jumper and a pair of jeans. The simplicity of her wardrobe choice however betrayed class and calculation: she looked expensive, without a hair out of place. The brothel could charge more for someone like her.

'Nah,' the proprietor said, 'I don't need you.'

Alice knew this was just her way to negotiate and didn't move.

'How about a bigger cut?' she suggested. She would have done it for free, after all. She didn't care. But she wanted to be here as a worker, not as a client any more.

'Maybe,' the woman said vaguely.

Her cigarette had burned out in the ashtray. It was now a long cylinder of unsmoked ash.

'I'll take twenty percent less than what a regular girl would take.'

'Half.'

'But I make the price.'

The fat woman laughed again.

'Phil,' she called. 'Get one of the girls to teach her the ropes.'

Phil gave Alice an odd look: you too?

As they walked into the main room, Alice felt Phil's eyes explore her: she was now for sale.

He took her to a barely furnished room and asked her to wait. Alice looked around. The odd feeling of having no windows, no fresh air coming in, made her claustrophobic. This part is easy, she told herself.

Phil returned with one of the girls. She was dark skinned with long, black hair. She had a pleasant face, with a strong square jaw and a small button nose. She was wearing a white robe, which, Alice thought, meant she had just finished with a client or maybe she was getting ready for her shift to start.

Phil made the introductions:

'This is Athena, and you are – '

'Alice.'

Both Phil and the girl laughed.

'Not your real name,' he said.

'You need a work name,' she explained. Alice noticed she spoke with an accent. 

'I don't know. How do you choose?' Alice asked.

'How about Blondie?' Phil asked.

Alice didn't mind, but Athena objected:

'Rubbish. She's too nice, too posh. How about Grace?'

'I like it,' Alice said with a smile.

'Now that you're acquainted,' Phil said cutting the conversation short, 'Athena will show you the ropes: she's been with us the longest and knows things well enough. We have a couple of empty rooms, and you can pick the one you like. There are a few safety issues to go through.'

Then, he left, leaving the two women to talk among them.

Athena took off her wigs. She had short, woolly hair underneath, and started scratching it. She looked at Alice staring at it and laughed. It was obvious why she had lasted the longest: she seemed resilient, her energy never waning, always happy, always capable of bouncing back. She rarely took offence, and she seemed to always see the positive side of every situation.

'Ugh! You don't know how hot it gets under that think. I sweat like a pig.'

'I actually like it better like this, you know?'

'Well, I can't be too Black for some people: they fuck me but they're thinking of someone like you.'

She said this with no sadness or no regret. It was a fact of life to her, and it was confined to her place of work. Back at home things were different: there she could be herself.

Well, she had that on Alice: people who knew her and accepted her for who she really was. Alice couldn't say as much.

'Now, let me look at what you've got,' Athena said.

She made Alice twirl before her.

'Well, take your clothes off. No time like now.'

Alice did as she was told, without feeling any inhibition. She folded her clothes neatly and put them on a shelf. Athena looked at her body. She felt the firm breasts, remarked on the well-trimmed bush on the front. She assessed the fit body. She seemed pleased.

'Please, bend over.'

The girl explored Alice's vagina, then the anal cavity. She gave her a little kiss on the bottom and laughed.

'You're good: very clean, no cuts.'

She gave Alice a robe to put on, and she showed her the little portable light and how to check the clients for obvious problems, the warts, the lesions, the swelled tissues, that might force her to reject them for the night. Then she showed her the two rooms available. They were absolutely identical. The two women laughed at the choice that was no choice at all.

'Number Twelve is fine,' Alice commented.

'Then Grace is in Number Twelve.'

The room had everything required for the job: a large bathroom, the large bowl of condoms, the toys that Alice was already acquainted with, the bottles of oils, the scented candles. She also showed her the hidden buttons to call Phil, in case of danger.

'It rarely happens,' she reassured her.

She also gave her some bras, some nightgowns, and a few dresses that might come in handy with some customers. She also went through what was expected and what was an extra she could negotiate separately.

'People here are not too picky, though: they just want a shag.'

Athena disappeared to get ready. Alice, or Grace as she was now called, was alone in Number Twelve. This was the real leap: now she had to follow through. Until now it had been just make-believe.

She picked up a white, see-through nightgown with some fur on the hem. She looked at the label: 100% synthetic. She smiled, wondering if her skin had ever touched something of the sort. She was happy to put it on: Grace never wears anything but pure synthetic, she joked to herself. Then, she knew she had no reason to wait any longer: with her heart beating fast and screaming at her to go back home to the nice part of town, she walked downstairs to look for her first client.