Alif (6)
"Pah!" Binta disagreed. "It hasn't made me any more enthusiastic!" "Well, Binta dear, you are an exception! Nobody could accuse you of having a normal attitude towards sex." "I really don't think that my preference in partners has any bearing over what I think about prostitution in general. It's absolutely abhorrent." "I can't pretend to understand you, Binta, but you're probably quite right. Many of my clients undoubtedly prefer boys to women. The number of times I've had to pretend to be one myself! I'm sure you'd find that even more disgusting. Perverse even, if you weren't yourself a homosexual. But it's fairly harmless. And I'm sure the provision of my services spares countless real boys attention they probably wouldn't appreciate. I am at least a professional and know exactly what to expect." "I don't believe that my sexual preferences make me likely to have any more sympathy for men who lust after children. If there's any sexual behaviour the government is quite right to make illegal, it's that..." "Making it illegal doesn't stop it, you know," laughed Zabba. "It just provides obstacles. And anyway Binta, sweetheart, if you knew some of these men as well as I do, you'd be no more censorious towards them than you'd want them to be towards you. My services are provided to sublimate such desires in a socially acceptable way." "Isn't what they do to you illegal?" wondered Ana contemplating Zabba's groin and her references to a sore posterior. "Sure it is!" laughed Zabba. She pinched a slim buttock with a hand. "It doesn't stop them. And it doesn't prevent me providing the service either. As long as they're willing to pay me that little extra that the tax-man never knows about, I'm not going to complain about a service the Brothel can never be seen to offer or condone. And those who're most keen on that sort of thing and the ones who most like me to dress like a little school-boy and avert their eyes from what truly distinguishes me from a boy: they're the ones who are the most publicly vehemently opposed to homosexuality and what they deem immoral sexual acts. But why should I care!" Zabba dipped her hands into the water and desultorily splashed water over her incompletely formed body. "However, unlike you Binta, when I've done a day's work, I don't have to stay here all night. I have my own home to go to and friends to go out with. So, if you don't mind, I'll be off now." She leaned over to Binta and kissed her tenderly on each cheek, and then repeated the compliment on Ana, who discovered for the first time how short Zabba was. Only the relative maturity of her conversation made her seem at all adult. Zabba left Ana and Binta swimming slowly up to the other end of the pool: Binta on her back and Ana more cautiously facing forward. "Zabba's very odd, isn't she?" Ana commented. "Odd? Why? Because of what she looks like?" Ana hadn't really meant that. "I suppose that's one way. No. I mean her attitude towards prostitution. I really thought that most prostitutes would absolutely hate it, like you." Binta tread water to keep afloat. "I can't speak for all the girls here. They have all sorts of attitudes. Some like Zabba quite enjoy it for one reason or another. Some detest it, and those who are convicted prisoners like me are going to hate it the most. After all, I didn't exactly volunteer to work here. The majority though are probably somewhere in between. A job they do for the money. Or which has enough good points to seem good enough for not doing something else. You can't be sure how honest most prostitutes are, the ones who do it by choice, that is. Some who hate it will pretend otherwise it to justify their choice of career. And some who quite like it will claim to hate it to retain some kind of self-respect. However, Zabba is quite right: it's a much better career for the higher grade. Alphas like Bezaffa and Zabba make good money, and they know they'll be able to retire on it. Even Betas like myself are generally respected by the clients. But the Deltas and Epsilons: it must be extraordinarily disheartening. They get the worst salaries, probably don't have the choice of another career and get the most abusive and unsavoury clients." Binta wiped her nose with the back of a hand. "But don't listen to Zabba when she says you should contemplate prostitution as a career. You would be the very last person to enjoy Zabba's lifestyle. You're better off as you are. If it was so wonderful, why did your predecessor leave in such a hurry?" "Is it only prostitutes who have liberal views like Zabba's?" "Of course not! But those who do don't necessarily want to become prostitutes. There was a girl Mezyana and I knew who was visiting Jebel who was a lot like Zabba in many ways. Well, not physically. There can't be very many people in the whole world with a body like hers. Her name was Azhnia, from which you can guess she wasn't an Alif girl. Her country is quite rich and although she always claimed to be broke she always seemed to be quite well off. It must be something to do with the exchange rate. God knows why she was in such a remote place as Jebel, but she claimed to love the countryside and its slow pace of life." "What country did she come from?" "Gharab, I think. Somewhere where they speak the same language. Mezyana and I were really envious of her country. Homosexuality and alcohol are legal, as are plenty of other things I could never imagine being legal here. They have films with people having sex in them, some of which she said were filmed in Alif. You can openly buy all sorts of drugs, but you have to pay tax on them, of course. People are much freer in what they can say and write. They don't have to be careful about saying something the government mightn't like. It sounded wonderful to us, I can tell you: always having to be careful about revealing our relationship." "How did you meet her?" "Mezyana and I were never really very sociable. We only met her by chance in the countryside when we were looking for a place to enjoy ourselves together. We were certainly not looking for other company. But as we were climbing up the hills, we came across this strange girl in leather clothes and short hair dyed a bizarre mix of blue and black. She was reading a book on a rock, and greeted us as we passed. Mezyana didn't really want to chat, but I was really curious to know something about her. I didn't know there were people in the world who dressed like that. You never find out about foreign fashions from the magazines or television programs. She had a peculiar accent, and we had great difficulty in understanding some of what she said. She was travelling in Alif and staying in a hostel near Quria. She said the hostel was really boring and she got fed up with how much people stared at her. At home, she said, nobody would look twice at someone dressed like her." "Is that true?" speculated Ana, who had never really thought of how foreigners might dress. "I can't believe that everyone wears such tight leather clothes as her, but she said there were people there who dressed a lot more outrageously. After all, there's no law to prevent them. As she didn't know anyone in Jebel, we got to know her a lot better. She had views about sex and so on that we found rather shocking. It was quite titillating as well of course. She always had these stories about her boyfriends and her sexual activity which I'm afraid we found very exciting. But the nicest thing about knowing her, I think, was that we found someone to whom we could confess our relationship, and who accepted it as what it was. It was good to know that there were people who not only didn't disapprove of lesbianism, but almost actively endorsed it. It was good to feel accepted like that." Binta frowned, and then, without warning, swam away towards the edge of the pool. Ana hovered for a moment in the centre, and then swam leisurely towards her. Binta's memories of Jebel must have upset her. Binta leaned on the pool-side bar watching her long legs cycle in the water, her hair spreading around. She continued as if there'd been no break in the conversation when Ana caught up with her. "I feel guilty thinking about Azhnia. I suppose it was the excitement of her liberating conversation, but it wasn't long until I learnt that Azhnia wasn't just interested in boys and the two of us..." Binta paused as she struggled to express herself. "Well, we soon got to be a little too close. My one episode of infidelity to Mezyana. Or one of several episodes to be honest: all with Azhnia. Not that my love for Mezyana was any less. It just seemed such an exhilarating and emancipating thing: having a relationship with another girl. I never told Mezyana, and Azhnia would never tell her either. And even though I felt really rotten at the time, I still went back to her for more. Now that I'm parted from Mezyana in this horrid place, I feel even worse that the only person I've ever truly loved, the one for whose love I am suffering so much, and who is also suffering for it ... I feel so low and deceitful and really no better than the slut that I've become!" Binta was weeping, tears lost in the dampness of her face. Embarrassed, Ana hovered by, not knowing what to say or do. Her new friend lowered her face under her cascading curtain of hair and softly sobbed. "I know Mezyana would forgive me if she were to find out. She's like that! So charitable and understanding. All that Christian business of only seeing the best in other people. That doesn't make it any easier: because I can never forgive myself. And I can't blame Azhnia. She was only doing what was natural to the mores of her own country. I am the only one to blame; and however enjoyable it seemed at the time, and however easily I got away with it, doesn't excuse me at all!" Binta gazed into Ana's sympathetic eyes. "I'm sorry to burden you with all this..." "That's all right..." Ana tried to say with as much sincerity as she could. She was slightly disturbed by the content of Binta's confessions, but also flattered to be confided in so soon in their friendship. "I'm sure it's good for you to..." "Thank you! Thank you!" Binta said with a brave smile. She briefly kissed Ana on the lips and, before Ana could respond, lifted herself out of the pool and stood high above her on the edge. "I must go now! I've been swimming for long enough. But perhaps we can come back for a swim another day?" "Gladly!" Ana replied, looking up at Binta, her arms supporting herself on the poolside. The two girls chatted on fairly trivial matters for a few more minutes, while Binta dried herself with a long Brothel-issue towel. Soon she left, and Ana floated on her back for a long time, recounting her conversation and revelling in the satisfaction of making friends with someone so soon in the forbidding loneliness of the city. Ana imagined that Binta had only left so soon to return to work. She waved to Binta as she passed along the glass walkway overlooking the pool, suddenly wincing as she recollected what Binta's work actually entailed. 6 Ana was gradually becoming more accustomed to her new life in the big city. It no longer seemed such an overpoweringly threatening place as it did on her first arrival. The city of Blad was still a great mystery on the whole but she felt fairly confident of the geography of the Jadid Quarter where she had been provided with a flat, and she knew all she needed to get to work in the city centre. The bus stop was only yards from the main entrance to the block of flats, and benefited from a shelter which, at this time of the year, served mostly to keep the sun off Ana and other commuters as they waited for the bus. Unfortunately, she didn't live near enough to the bus depot to avoid having to stand all the way on most of her journeys to work, but a little bit of discomfort like that was nothing compared to the gain of having a job. Around her block of flats were many others almost identical, all the statutory maximum height of six storeys allowed before an escalator needed to be installed, and through the windows of which were flats of much the same design as Ana's own. She was in awe of the magnificent amount of space she had: more than the two floors of her parents' home. Her bedroom had an enormous double bed she could sleep in without hunching up her body. Her kitchen was ready supplied with a cooker, a microwave and a fridge-freezer. She even had a front-loading washing machine with which she had a disastrous time trying to get working properly. The most luxurious aspect was the fully-furnished living room in which there was a table, some chairs and even a television. And so much space! So much unoccupied air. Ana felt incredibly privileged. And all provided free as part of her contract of work with the Blad State Brothel! She'd never have been able to afford a flat nearly as well-appointed otherwise. She stood by the living room window over a small balcony just large enough for her to peg her clothes to dry after she'd mastered the washing-machine. Down below was a network of clean well-paved roads and a shop opposite which sold almost everything from light-bulbs and lentils to radios and radishes. A huddle of older women stood at the bus stop just by a policeman in a dark green uniform, smoking a cigarette. Radiating out for a few hundred yards were similar streets, the occasional small church and a small patch of grass where children could play. It seemed so comfortable and ordinary to Ana that she sometimes forgot she'd not always lived in a place like this. One prominent feature of the living room was a long full-length mirror in which she could examine her reflection. At first she worried that the mirror might be connected to a network of cameras and viewing screens, like the one in Binta's room at the Brothel, but she soon satisfied herself, after poking around its perimeter with a knife, that there was no real likelihood that it could be anything other than a normal mirror. Ana stood in front of it, wearing only a towel round her body which she had used to dry herself after a long relaxing rest in the bath. She smiled sadly at herself, relishing her reflection's corresponding smile. She peered around through the window to confirm no one could see her and let her towel slip to her knees. She had never seen her naked body in its entirety before. Having seen so many naked or near naked bodies recently she was curious to see how she compared. She concluded that she had a nice face: not startlingly pretty, but still nice. A little thin perhaps, like the rest of her, but her eyes were large even if her lips weren't at all prominent. Her lank fair hair fell onto her shoulders, even more lank than usual as it was still damp from her bath. She was slim. Her breasts and hips had never really blossomed with adulthood quite as much as some girls at the Brothel, certainly not as much as Binta's. How would she compare with a Beta Plus like Binta? She was sure she could never be considered more attractive, although much of Binta's physical beauty (she blushed to find herself using such terms) came less from her body than how she carried it. She radiated greater self-confidence and bearing without clothes, than Ana could fully dressed. She imagined Binta walking along the corridors of the Brothel with a confident unselfconscious stride; Binta swimming breast-stroke in the swimming pool, her buttocks clearly visible through the water; and Binta sitting opposite her at the canteen table, her breasts just inches away from her fingers. Fingers which could easily stretch over and stroke her elegantly shaped nipples and feel the curve of her bosom. And, Ana couldn't help wondering, would Binta actually enjoy that? Although Binta came from the countryside much as Ana did, Jebel sounded very different from her descriptions of its hills and mountains (and rather more exciting) than the broad agricultural plains of Rif, bounded by distant hills and mountains. Her village of Biyat was such an ordinary place, - serviced by a small shop, a few irregular buses and a church, - that could claim several uneventful centuries of history. Like all the others in the village, her parents' cottage had more space in the garden than inside, where most of the vegetables they ate were grown. Her father worked at a factory several miles away and left for work very early in the morning in a beaten-up van jointly owned by himself and several of his colleagues. He rarely got home much before seven in the evening. Her mother supplemented their living by forever knitting and stitching clothes. Ana was considered very much the bright star of the family for having attained a college qualification, and there was little shame attached to her inability to find work other than in the city of Blad. Most young people in Biyat were either unemployed or like Ana had little choice but to find work elsewhere. Life in her village was very uneventful and was no less so at the small town where she had attended college. There was little for a young girl to do. There was the occasional village disco attended by too many adults and children for young people to be anything but careful in what they did or said. The affairs organised by the college were more exciting, but were compromised by her need to catch the last bus back home to Biyat. Ana would occasionally see a film in the tiny cinema with other students, but the selection of films was very uninspiring and was mostly mercilessly cut foreign films. However, Ana had never felt deprived, as she had nothing with which to compare her social life and hers was no different from that of other girls in her village. Her family, Biyat and Rif were a long way from Blad and her new life. An immeasurable gulf separated her from her former life, and it was not just the physical distance between them. Ana sat on a chair with the towel on her lap, still facing the mirror, contemplating the upward tilt of her breasts in the slight chill of the evening. She'd never be able to tell her parents about the actual nature of the company employing her, and the deceit made her feel quite uncomfortable. She'd never hidden the truth from them before. She'd never had the need. Now she was obliged to routinely mislead them whenever they asked questions about the big city employers who had provided her with such a grand flat. Would they guess that not many employers were prepared to pay a secretary so well, and to give her such a nice place to live in addition? Her employer still disgusted her. It was after all a Brothel. One owned by the State (and ultimately by President Marmeluke himself) and therefore with at least some of its approval. Ultimately, it was a concern which sold the bodies of mostly women to mostly men for the purpose of their sexual gratification. The thought discomfited her considerably. It particularly perturbed her now that she could visualise the actual girls employed in the business of providing their bodies to the rather unattractive men she saw going into the Brothel. She could imagine Bezaffa, Ferhana and Zabba underneath these foul hairy bodies with their dirty unscrubbed fingers crawling over their soft skin. She could most particularly and most painfully imagine Binta in this position: her pretty face being kissed by stubble-chinned, pot-bellied men, their hands grasping at her firm breasts and, worse, the most intimate part of all being repeatedly violated for their vile pleasure. However, as Ana reflected with some relief, it was not she who had to endure all this indignity and disgrace, but her new friends, not all of whom seeming nearly as distressed as Binta. Furthermore, life at the Brothel wouldn't be any different whether or not she was working there. Perhaps she was privileged to get such a close view of the workings of a Brothel without having to actively participate. She was grateful to have met so many new friends in a city where people were generally far too intent on their own business to spare any time or friendliness for an innocent country-girl. She had met many new people and made new friends. She wasn't too sure who were really her friends, though she was convinced that Binta fitted that description. Perhaps also Ferhana and Ketaba. These were girls so very different from the people in Rif, and this fact compensated for some of the loneliness she felt living so far from her family and friends. She was also very grateful for her salary and her flat. She'd enjoyed selecting it with Khedra, the Personnel and Training Manager, who'd presented her with a list of available flats and told her of the relative merits of each. She hardly believed the options she had, and so soon after arriving in the city just for an interview! Her parents expressed their delight in the letters they'd sent her which included her younger sister's drawings of the kittens and tales of all the things in the village that had so recently been of primary interest to her. They had been surprised that things had worked out so right so soon. The work she was doing wasn't too bad either, Ana considered. It was all well within her capabilities, and she'd already earned praise from Mr Madir for the accuracy of her typing and how she had organised the manual files. She was apparently so much better at it than Inta, and so much more attractive. The Director's praise always made Ana feel extremely uncomfortable, though. It wasn't only because the office air was thick with smoke emerging from the cigarette smouldering in his holder or the sweet smell of it clinging to his clothes and hair. Although he treated the staff - prostitutes or not - in a flirting over-familiar manner, she couldn't help suspecting his motives. She decided that she didn't like him very much. Not only was he rather ugly and smelly, but for all his apparent kindness she couldn't somehow forgive him his rather active rôle in the running of the Brothel and ultimately in the enslavement and foul abuse of girls like Ferhana and, of course, Binta. Although Ana couldn't be said to be active in the more obviously sordid activities of the Brothel, wasn't she just as complicit as the Director himself simply by helping to run the administrative side of the concern? 7 Ana didn't know how many times she'd heard the buzz of her flat's intercom before she managed to locate it in the hallway. Who could it be? she wondered, still wearing only a towel and mostly lost in the revelry of her thoughts. "It's me, Khedra," the tinny voice on the intercom announced. "Can I come up?" The Personnel and Training Manager from the Brothel! What did she want? "Of course! Of course!" Ana replied in a panic about what to wear. She hurriedly dashed into her bedroom and slipped on a sleeveless floral dress and knickers less with regard to appearance than with the need to get dressed. She hadn't found her sandals when she'd opened the flat door, her hair still slightly damp. Khedra was a tall slim woman in her late thirties who dressed very smartly in a green suit with a silk scarf around her neck. If Ana didn't know, she would have assumed she worked for a bank or an insurance company. She was however very amiable and solicitous of Ana's welfare. It might only have been her prejudices that made Ana somewhat wary of her, but she certainly didn't feel overwhelmingly grateful for this unexpected visit. "I see you've made the flat very homely," commented Khedra affably, looking at the posters of Rif that Ana had sellotaped to the wall to remind her of home. She wandered towards a vase of small flowers Ana had placed prominently on the living room table. She stooped over to examine it more carefully. "Very nice. Very nice. I hope you're settling in well in your new home?" "Yes, very well, Miss Jismia," Ana said nervously, standing by the doorway and wondering why she'd chosen those particular flowers. "Call me Khedra, Ana. Do you mind if I sit down?" "Of course not," Ana replied as Khedra lowered herself into one of the two armchairs facing the television. She sat in the other armchair, after first turning it round to face Khedra across a small coffee table. "I hope you don't mind me visiting you like this. But I happened to be in the area and part of my duties, as you know, is to ensure that all our employees are happy in their working life. And of course I have especial concern for all our new employees. I like to see that everyone is contented and that everything is well. I trust that the flat is satisfactory?" "It's very nice. I'm very grateful." "The Brothel has a reputation for supplying only the best accommodation to its valued employees. I hope also that you are satisfied with this district. You should be. The Jadid Quarter has a good reputation in this city. Good amenities, good schools, an excellent bus service and, of course, no shortage of churches if you should be of a religious bent. Are you a churchgoer?"
Go to part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32
Copyright © 2000 Bradley Stoke |