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“Whatever thoughts, fantasies or
conjectures you may have about working in a Brothel - especially a State
Brothel - you should dismiss straight away. It really is no different to
working anywhere else. You will not be expected to behave any
differently to a secretary or personal assistant employed in any
other business.”
Ana nodded.
This was what she’d hoped to hear. Although her interviewer was just a
little bit more flamboyant than most, - as befitted the Director of the
largest Brothel in the country, - she had been afraid that he might have
been far worse. Mr Madir was not a tall man, but when wearing his top hat he
had a bearing and demeanour that more than compensated for his vertical
disadvantage. His stubby fingers were either fiddling with his cigarette
holder or, as at the moment, delicately holding a cigarette a small
distance from his mouth. Although his fingers didn’t have the yellow stain
of nicotine associated with a habitual smoker, there was a suggestion
of roughness about them.
Ana had
never visited the City of
However,
this might not be so surprising, Ana reflected. Not many people would be
attracted to working in a Brothel. Initially she had been very reluctant
to post off her application form, despite all the effort expended in
its completion. Some of Ana’s friends were simultaneously shocked and
titillated by Ana’s potential job offer, while others advised her that
with jobs so hard to find, especially in
The Blad
State Brothel was an imposing building. It was difficult to determine the
building’s shape because from whatever direction it was seen
other buildings in the narrow winding roads obscured some of it.
Its entrance was a wide doorway, many times higher than the
tallest man, leading to a foyer where men were sitting on armchairs
or anxiously milling around. At first Ana was unsure where to go, but she
breathed deep and strode towards the scantily dressed lady at the
reception desk. She would not be deflected at this last hurdle. At the very
least, she’d want to reclaim her not inconsiderable travelling expenses.
When Ana
introduced herself, she was treated in exactly the same officious way she
associated with receptionists at other interviews she’d attended. Mr Madir was
informed by telephone that Ana had arrived and then, because he
was such an important man, the receptionist escorted Ana into his private
elevator and up to his office. Even then, Ana had to wait with the plants
and plaques in the anteroom for nearly half an hour beyond the
official scheduled time of the interview before the Director could see
her. Ana speculated that this might be because there were other candidates
for the job, but when he opened his door to invite her in there was no
evidence of what might have delayed him.
“However,
this is a Brothel,” continued the
Director, smoke billowing through the nostrils of his long thin nose. “And
it is worth your while knowing how the institution works. No
doubt, like many country bumpkins, you have some very peculiar
ideas about it. And from what I’ve heard of State Brothels in the
provinces, this may not be entirely due to rustic ignorance.” He leaned
forward to gaze into Ana’s face, forcing her to lean back while still maintaining
a fixed bland smile. ”Do you have any idea what motivates women - or men -
to work as prostitutes?”
Ana
swallowed slightly. “No,” was all she managed to eructate.
“None of
your friends have ever been prostitutes? None of them ever considered it
as a career?”
Ana shook
her head. What must Mr Madir think of her?
“There are
many different reasons for a woman, - and most of the prostitutes here are women, - to work as a Prostitute.
The most positive ones are held by those attracted to prostitution as
a profession, and who take it every bit as seriously as the legal,
medical, pedagogical and, I dare say,” the Director sniffed a little
dismissively, “the secretarial professions. These are the prostitutes I most
admire. They are the ones who have ensured that, over the centuries, the
State Brothels continue to provide the highest possible level of service
and satisfaction. A standard which would have ensured a
state monopoly even if the law didn’t already prescribe it.
“Then there
are those attracted purely for the remuneration. Prostitutes are very
competitively salaried, and the bonuses, overtime and fringe benefits are
really second to none. Quite a few Prostitutes, and not just the Alpha
grades, earn substantially more than me. Why an employee wishes to earn
so much money is really none of my business and I do not wish to pry.
However,” and again Mr Madir leaned uncomfortably forward, “one hears
terrible things about their private habits. Some even drink alcohol. And
for a filthy habit like that they need the money to buy it on the black
market. And some have children. You don’t have children, m’dear?”
Ana shook
her head. She felt distinctly ill at ease. Even in her smart and demure
interview outfit, - which rather exaggerated any stiffness or primness she
might already possess, - the Director’s pale brown eyes seemed to
unclothe her.
“Good. And
then there are those here in penal service. They most definitely do not
enjoy the career advantages of other Prostitutes, but many choose to
linger on as employees after serving their sentence. I don’t enjoy my dual
role as Prison Governor and Managing Director, but I am above all
a servant of the Government and in that capacity I am
thoroughly loyal. Do you have any questions?”
Ana
couldn’t think of any, and rather hoped the interview would end soon. It
was difficult to avoid looking into the Director’s face, and every time
she did his eyes pierced straight through her. No doubt it was
his profession that made him appear like this, thought Ana charitably.
Or maybe, she wondered less benevolently, it was what he was already like
that had decided his choice of profession.
“Irrespective
of the terms of their employment all the Prostitutes are strictly graded
according to their appearance, performance and special services. This is
categorised by Greek letters. The highest grades are the Alphas with the
Alpha Double Plus being the highest quality, most well-paid and, as far as
the client is concerned, the most expensive. At the other
extremes are the Epsilons. These might be considered bargain basement by the clients, and their services are
usually only retained because of the demand for cheapness. Epsilons mostly
consist of convicts and economic migrants. Personally, I would never avail
myself of their services, but there are many poverty-stricken clients
with sufficiently less discretion than myself.
“If you
were employed as a Prostitute, I imagine you would be categorised as Beta
Plus which is no bad thing to be. There are opportunities to work
part-time as a Prostitute. Should you ever consider it, it’s a very
good way to improve your salary quite substantially.” The Director paused to
pull another cigarette from the silver cigarette case on the desk. He
tapped it on the exterior, though there seemed no reason to suspect it
needed such attention and fixed it in the end of his cigarette holder.
“Does the prospect of such extra employment attract you at all, m’dear?”
Ana
blushed. Revulsion gripped her stomach. She’d rather die! A heroic image
of herself jumping out of the Director’s window onto the city streets many
floors below came to mind as she vehemently and speechlessly shook her
head.
“Well, you
may come to change your opinion with time and acquaintance,” mused Mr
Madir, who adjusted the cigarette holder in his lips and flicked open his
cigarette lighter. He lit his cigarette carefully, watching the smoke
rise. Ana averted her eyes from the smoke and focused them on the
ponderous gold ring on his forefinger.
The
remainder of the interview concerned more mundane aspects such as the
starting date, salary, holiday allowance and the accommodation she would
be offered. Ana soon found herself committed to commencing the very next
day and despite her reservations about the Brothel and the Director
himself, she could articulate no good reason for not accepting the offer.
The Director had a tendency to digress and talk about his own job and
responsibilities, and in these moments Ana had the opportunity to inspect
the office. This was to be the place, she began to accept, where she’d
be spending most of her working day, taking down short-hand,
typing letters and exercising the Director’s more menial duties.
The office was very plush, as befitted the Director’s status,
and above his head hung an impressive portrait of President Marmeluke, dressed
in a flamboyant military uniform, gazing imperiously down on his two
subjects.
After the
interview, the Director escorted Ana to the Brothel Canteen along endless
corridors and staircases. Ana wondered if she’d ever become familiar
with the building’s geography. Along the corridors were closed doors with
a bright light above each one. Some were red, some were green and some
were switched off. The Director explained that these described the
Prostitute’s current status. When the light was red, the Prostitute was engaged
with a client and was not to be disturbed. When green, the Prostitute was
on duty but was not at that time engaged with a client. And
when switched off, the Prostitute was off duty.
Generally,
the corridors were fairly empty. Occasionally they passed a man escorted by one
of the receptionists wearing the regulation tight, rather revealing,
leather uniform tottering on painfully high heels. These were clients
being taken to a Prostitute, Mr Madir explained. Or, of course, he added,
being escorted back to reception. No client was permitted to
wander freely about the building. There were also Prostitutes
walking singly or in pairs. These were off duty, the Director
explained. But even then they had to dress as Prostitutes in case
the client saw them. And indeed the scanty skin-tight clothes, the
high heeled stilettos, the thick make-up and, in some cases, total absence of
clothes, left little doubt as to their profession. Ana had never seen so
many provocatively dressed, or undressed, women in all her life, and she
felt embarrassment warm her cheeks and a curious excitement her body,
which made it difficult to breathe or talk in a natural way.
Soon
enough, they passed through some swing-doors with Entry Forbidden to Clients etched on the glass, and the doors now
had titles, like Internal Examinations,
Catering Clerk and Foreign Services, with which Ana felt
more comfortable. And there was an arrow labelled To Staff Canteen.
The Brothel
Canteen really could have been a canteen anywhere, sharing the same air of
temporary reprieve. It was larger than any canteen Ana had seen before but
there were all the expected features: formica-top tables, counter and
canteen staff, red plastic trays and cardboard coffee cups. The Director
beckoned over one of the canteen staff, a harassed middle-aged woman in an
apron and simpering smile, who scurried forward to take his order for
coffees.
“Where
shall we sit, m’dear?” the Director asked.
“I don’t
really mind,” said Ana who had nevertheless scanned the tables and saw
many that she probably would mind sitting at. On some tables there was the
customary chaos of empty cups, wrapping paper and coffee stains. On
others, there were women in several states of dress and undress gathered
in pairs or groups, some observing Mr Madir and her rather warily.
“I’ll
introduce you to some of the workers,” announced the Director striding
towards a table with three women sitting at it. Ana tailed him, her
reserved interview clothes very much out of character.
The Director
briefly introduced the three women in turn, before sitting in a chair. Ana sat
next to him. One girl, Ferhana, was slim and black, wearing
black suspenders, stockings and black lace underwear. Her hair
was fairly short and she beamed at Ana with a peculiar mischievous grin.
Opposite Ana was Binta, who had long mousy brown hair to her waist and
wore no clothes at all. Ana found the prospect of sitting so close to a
pair of round naked breasts and their lightly pronounced nipples curiously threatening.
The third girl, Bezaffa, was extremely plump with soft white skin, most of
which was clearly visible through her skimpy, nearly transparent, dress.
Although fat, she was not at all unattractive, her friendly,
welcoming face framed by blonde shoulder-length hair.
“Ferhana’s
a foreigner as you can probably tell,” the Director continued after the
canteen assistant had produced two cups of coffee, both in somewhat
superior china with sugar cubes and a spoon resting in the saucer. “Not
many jobs where you come from are there, m’dear?”
“Very few,”
admitted Ferhana, who spoke with a flat accent. “Haj is a very poor
country. Not like Alif. Many people do not have enough to eat and the
cities are very dirty. That is why I have come here.”
She smiled
broadly and gazed straight into Ana’s eyes.
“We don’t
have many niggers in Alif,” explained the Director, “so they possess
premium value in the Brothel. You’re doing quite well here aren’t you,
Ferhana dear?”
“Yes,” she
admitted. “When I first have come to the Brothel, I was just a Beta Plus.
But I have done many tests and many exercises. Now I am an Alpha Minus and
many more clients want me. I have learnt how to look after my body so I am
much more good at my work and much more good to look at.”
“Actually
Ferhana’s serving time here,” elaborated the Director. ”She was found
guilty of smuggling alcohol into the country, weren’t you?”
Ferhana
looked remorseful. “Yes, that is true. In Haj it is not against the law to
buy and sell alcohol. And I made very much money selling it. But I was
caught and I was sent here to be reformed.” She smiled at the Director.
“But I am reformed now. And soon I will work here and make very much money
selling my body.”
“A much
more creditable way to make a living,” he said approvingly. “It always
fills me with pleasure when girls in my care are reformed. It makes the
custodial aspect of the Brothel much easier to bear.”
Ferhana
sipped from her cardboard cup fixing her eyes on the Director. “It is good to
know that I have a good career waiting for me at the end of my sentence.”
“Binta’s
also here for remedial purposes,” the Director continued. Binta visibly
jumped at being addressed, but nervously composed herself. “Like Ferhana she
was classified on arrival as a Beta Plus, and I’m sure that she too could attain
an Alpha grade if she worked at it.” Binta nodded but her
eyes wandered away from the Director and towards Ana. ”These two
girls are actually quite untypical, m’dear. Most of the prisoners we get
are quite poor grade. Most are Gammas and Deltas. We even get a few Epsilons.
My greatest reservation of government policy in placing criminals in
my care is that they tend to lower the general standard. And so
few of them are properly motivated. Isn’t that true, Binta?”
“Probably,”
she answered noncommittally.
“I don’t
think Binta’s got quite the right attitude,” the Director sniffed. “But,
Ana, what do you think about the way she dresses?”
Ana
blushed. “I’m sorry. What ...?”
“Or the way
she doesn’t dress,” the Director continued. “It’s not my choice. I prefer
the girls to be smartly turned out like Ferhana here. A good pair of
heels. Well-applied makeup. But the Department of Public Services has
quite a liberal attitude and it allows this nudist look. What do you call
it, Binta?” Binta frowned. “Naturism,
isn’t it? There is a sufficiently large demand for naked girls for this
kind of appearance to be permitted. They can get away without wearing any
makeup or other kind of prescribed body care as long as they remain naked
all the time. Isn’t that so?”
Binta nodded.
Her eyes wandered back towards Ana who caught a flash of insolence before they
lowered in token subservience.
“Binta’s
not the only nudist you’ll see here,” the Director continued, “but
thankfully there aren’t too many of them. I wouldn’t like the Brothel to
look like some heathen place. But I can’t answer for the clients’ tastes.
And it’s the public to whom I’m ultimately answerable.” He pulled a cigarette
out of its case and tapped it on the Formica surface. “But you’d
say you’re a reformed girl, wouldn’t you Binta?”
“Yes, of
course,” she said firmly but without enthusiasm.
“President
Marmeluke’s government doesn’t lightly institute policies. There’s a great
deal of reasoned debate. And it’s very cheering to see demonstrable proof
of its wisdom. Binta won’t treat public morality with such disrespect again,
will you?”
Binta shook
her head.
Ana found
herself sympathising with Binta’s somewhat sullen attitude towards the
Director. Indeed, now that she’d got over the original shock of sitting
opposite a naked woman, it no longer seemed so strange. It would probably
have detracted from Binta’s fresh-faced attractiveness if she’d been
dressed in underwear with such pronounced makeup as Ferhana. Perhaps not
all prostitutes are sluts, she reflected.
“However,
for a model for my other employees there can be none better than Bezaffa. Can
there, m’dear?”
“You
flatter me,” smiled Bezaffa coyly.
“Unlike
these other two, Bezaffa came into the profession by choice. And she’s a true
professional. An Alpha Plus. Isn’t that so?”
“It is,”
Bezaffa agreed modestly.
“You might
wonder how someone as ample as Bezaffa, someone as voluptuous, could get such a
high rating. But that’s because certain species of employee are classified
appropriately for their particular virtues. And for her type, Bezaffa is quite
simply top notch.”
“It’s hard
work maintaining it,” confessed Bezaffa, smiling confidentially at Ana. “I have
to spend a lot of time every day practising and keeping myself in shape.”
“No
hardship keeping your figure, though,” the Director commented, leaning towards
Bezaffa.
Ana
reviewed Bezaffa in an attempt to evaluate why she should have such a high
rating. She supposed that she did seem peculiarly attractive for such a large
woman. Her face, in particular, shone with a fresh gleam with dark blue eyes
and light blonde hair. Her smile had a flirting seductiveness which dimpled her
round smooth cheeks. Her breasts swelled over the roundness of her belly with
her enormous pink nipples clearly visible through the skimpy white dress.
“Bezaffa’s
very much in demand. Indeed most of your work is spent visiting clients rather
than them visiting you here. And you’re booked quite a few days in advance.”
“Well, I do
have my regulars ‑ which ensures a very full appointments diary.”
“And I bet
they give you a little extra on the side,” the Director joked slyly.
“I wouldn’t
admit to that, would I, sweetie?” Bezaffa answered. “But I can refuse clients I
don’t like. That’s almost the greatest privilege of being an Alpha Plus.”
“Don’t say
that too loudly,” laughed the Director, “or the other girls will be even more
jealous of you!”
“It’s not
very often I exercise my prerogative, of course,” Bezaffa elaborated. “I like
all my clients. Especially the regulars. In fact, I really enjoy my job.”
“It’s a
good career, isn’t it?” the Director enthused. Ana noticed that Binta didn’t
seem to share Bezaffa wild‑eyed enthusiasm. Indeed she scowled at the
very suggestion of the profession’s appeal. “Tell Ana about the advantages of
your work.”
“It’s a
good career. It’s a good way to meet a lot of very interesting people and it
keeps you terribly fit. In fact, it’s almost all I can do to keep myself as
plump as I am. There can’t be many jobs where you’re paid to enjoy yourself and
get paid so well. The holiday allowance is very generous, there’s an index‑related
pension and plenty of opportunity for overtime. You ought to do some part‑time
work in it yourself, dear. You can certainly earn quite a bit of extra cash ‑
more than your regular income. Have you considered that option at all?”
Ana
blushed. “No, not at all!”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get round to the idea. Your predecessor, Inta, was just like you to start with but after a while she got to be quite enthusiastic about it.”
“She did very
well,” agreed the Director. “But don’t you worry; if it’s not for you, then
that’ll be respected.”
“Of course,
sweetie,” Bezaffa agreed. She glanced at the tiny red plastic watch which
pinched into her swollen wrist. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, but I’ve
got a client to visit so I’ll have to be going.”
She eased
out of her plastic chair and heaved herself up. She leaned over and kissed Ana
tenderly on the cheek. “Welcome to the Brothel. I’m sure you’ll enjoy working
here. And I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other.” She then bade everyone
farewell and walked off in long confident strides on stilettos which
demonstrated a degree of delicate charm not often associated with such large
women.
The
Director glanced at the canteen clock. “
“Oh yes!”
she answered, promptly leaping to her feet. “I was just about to go.”
“And what
about you, Binta?”
“I’m on a
later shift,” she announced.
“Right,
m’dear!” The Director stood up and shook Ana’s hand. “So, we’ll be seeing you
punctually first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll go through your duties with you
then.”
Ana nodded,
still unsettled by her changed circumstances, and watched as the Director and
Ferhana disappeared together through the canteen doors which slammed shut
behind them with a puff. Ana was left sitting just opposite Binta and not at
all sure where to direct her eyes. She couldn’t very well look away from Binta
as that would seem rude, but she felt very nervous gazing at a naked woman
however natural her nakedness might appear.
Binta
smiled reassuringly at Ana. “You’re new to Blad, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve
never been to the big city before.”
“It must
seem very intimidating. I’ve not seen much of the city myself ‑ except,
you know, what I can see from the Brothel. And that’s not a lot.”
“Are you
here all the time?”
“Yes. I’m
never let out! I might run away, you see!”
“You really
are a prisoner here!”
“Nothing
could tempt me to stay here otherwise,” Binta affirmed. She examined Ana
quizzically. “You poor dear. All this must seem very queer to you. If you like,
I’ll show you more of this place. Would you like that?”
Ana glanced
around the rest of the canteen at all the strange women and the counter staff
more animated now that the Director was gone.
“That would
be interesting.”
“I’ll show
you my room. It’s not much, but it’ll give you more of an insight of what the
Brothel’s about.”
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