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Ana was afflicted by an
illness which distorted her senses, brought her to hot flushes and dominated
her every waking moment, but an illness so pleasurable and delightful she
mourned rather that she’d never been so afflicted before. She was in love. She
was totally and passionately in love. For the first time she
understood and relished every word of every love song. They were written
for her. They expressed the feelings she had. She observed courting couples on
the bus or in the park with a warmth and affection she’d never felt before. Her
heart was truly light, she walked on a cushion of air and everything was
wonderful.
Even at work,
those awkward moments when there was nothing to do and she was waiting for her
next assignment became full with reflections on and images of her lover. Binta smiling. Binta laughing. The
things she would say as they nuzzled together under the silk sheets. Everywhere
was imprinted with her image. It was so vivid. As was the
remembrance of her voice heard so clearly in her mind’s ear, reassuring and
comforting her. The memory of the image, touch and
warmth of Binta’s naked skin. She could almost feel her flesh against
her fingers as she averted her gaze away from the calendar of semi-clad women
on the office wall towards the clouds wisping through the deep blue sky. She
smiled to herself again, as she did so often these days.
“You look
pretty pleased with yourself!” remarked Khedra, popping by to leave an envelope
in the Director’s in-tray. “A good day’s work?”
Ana nodded
- her mind focusing on the evening ahead when again, like every evening when
Binta wasn’t working, hours of patient reflection were to be rewarded by a
passionate and close embrace. When, again, she and Binta would idly slump on
the sheets and spend long unhurried hours together, never bored with each
other’s company and never lost for anything to say. Indeed, she had come to
dread the inevitable rude bell of Binta’s alarm clock in the morning that told her
to get dressed and return to the office.
Weekends
were particularly pleasant, especially when Binta didn’t have to work. No alarm
clock and no reason to get up. A day together without interruption
and free from anxiety. A day of relaxation and calm.
It was
during such a weekend she and Binta were lying beneath the sheets spent by
their mutual exertions, a sweet smell adhering to Ana’s fingers and a faint
odour of shared sweat. Ana gazed at the ceiling, studying the
faint spidery cracks in the plaster, her head resting on Binta’s shoulder,
smiling with sensual satisfaction.
“Hiya!” Ana
suddenly heard. “I saw you weren’t working so I ...” Whose voice was
that? Who was it addressed to? She raised her head to see the naked figure of
Ketaba framed by the door and looking rather startled. “Oh! ... I see you’ve
got company, Binta. I didn’t know! And goodness me! It’s Ana! I’d never have
guessed! Ana!”
“Hello
Ketaba,” greeted Binta reluctantly, disengaging herself from the weight of her
lover’s body. “Didn’t anybody tell you to knock before coming in?”
Ketaba
looked rather embarrassed. More embarrassed even than Ana who
hastily pulled up the sheets to cover her breasts. “I didn’t know! It’s
usually okay! I just didn’t think... And with Ana, too! I thought she had more
sense!”
“Don’t
start preaching, Ketaba,” said Binta sternly. “If you want to
stay here, fine! But don’t upset poor Ana. And close the door!”
Ketaba
nodded sheepishly and eased the door behind her. She sat by the mirror, lifted
up her hair and dropped it down loosely behind the chair. Binta reluctantly
pulled herself out from between the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed
facing Ketaba.
“So how are
you today, Ketaba? You’re not working now, are you?”
“No, I
don’t start for a few hours. I’m between shifts. I volunteered for overtime.
Towards the cost of a holiday, you know.”
“Are you
doing two shifts in one day?” exclaimed
Binta. “I would have thought once was
enough for anyone. Surely even you
must be tired by now and looking forward to nothing better than a rest.”
“The money
helps, you know. I’ve never been one to turn down the opportunity of a bit of
extra work...”
“And it
keeps you fit as well?” Binta sneered. “I can’t believe that you’re ever short
of money. With your dedication to the profession you must be one of the most
highly paid prostitutes in the whole Brothel. And you probably make as much
again from clients’ gratuities. What do you want the money for?”
Ketaba
seemed unbalanced by Binta’s criticism as if she’d never really considered that
question before. She glanced at Ana lying under the sheets, of whom only her
shoulders and head were visible. The silk sheets did nothing to disguise the
contours of Ana’s body, but in the presence of two naked women what could that
possibly matter? Ketaba’s stare seemed to linger rather longer than necessary,
and when she returned her gaze to Binta a flicker of guilt seemed to pass
across her heavy-lidded eyes.
“There must
be a reason, Ketaba, for you to want to work all these extra hours. Do you really relish your work so much that you
can’t bear to rest from it?”
“Unlike
you, Binta, I enjoy the company of my clients. They may not be the most
handsome or attractive people there are, but with few exceptions they are
essentially decent people who are happy with the services I provide. And I am
happy to satisfy them. There is an art, a skill, to prostitution and, if
nothing else, I get considerable professional satisfaction from doing a worthwhile
job well. I have many regulars, and when you become more familiar with the same
clients you soon think of them as more than so much inadequate meat. And they
soon come to respect you ever more. Your problem, Binta, is not just your
dubious sexual preferences, but that you never show any sympathy or
understanding towards the men who come to see you.”
Ana found
Ketaba’s description slightly comforting. “You make it sound like you’re more
of a nurse or social worker than a prostitute,” she remarked. The image allowed
her to regard Binta’s work with more equanimity.
“That’s an
interesting and fair comparison. Quite often the clients want from me not the
services for which I am so expertly equipped and trained to provide, but just
for a sympathetic ear. Many have no one else they can speak to. They may have
no wife or lover and few friends. They may be locked in a loveless and unhappy
marriage. They may have worries and concerns with business or health that they
can’t off-load on anyone else. And I tell you, Binta, that when you speak to
your clients like that they soon become more human and you get quite fond of
them. There is one client I have who spends more than two hours a week with me,
and all he ever does is talk about how his estranged wife extracts ever more
money from him...”
“...when
you’re not doing it yourself!” sniffed Binta. “Your services don’t exactly come
cheap, and with your ratings you must be bleeding your clients dry. Not that I
care much for them if you did!”
“It’s no
wonder you have such a miserable time working here with attitudes like that!
You really ought to try and get to know your clients better. Your gratuities
will increase dramatically, your work won’t seem nearly as arduous and you may
even improve your PAR. Try it and see!”
“I
appreciate your kind advice, Ketaba,” Binta responded conciliatorily. “But if
you don’t like men at all to begin with, you’re not going to be particular
sincere about wanting to know them better. They really are irredeemably
loathsome, and my daily ordeal only further reinforces that opinion!”
“It’s your
whole outlook on life that’s poisoning you, Binta. And your disgusting
perversions are just an aspect of the poison creeping through your soul. You
need a much more positive, outward-going, life-inspiring attitude. You need to
examine deep inside yourself, release your pent-up energies and confront your
karma. Nurture the inner goodness that must reside in you, - otherwise you
wouldn’t adopt the life-enhancing practice of naturism, - let it swell inside you
and release a torrent of positive vibrations onto the world around you. If you
feel good, you inspire good feelings. And good feelings make you feel good. A virtuous cycle which can do you no harm!”
“And how is
that going to improve my life as a prostitute? I don’t exactly have a great
deal of opportunity to meditate or empathise with my clients. All they want and
all the gratification they desire is released within seconds with no respect at
all for the finer feelings of the women who collect our soiled laundry every
day. I’m sure my goodness would flourish considerably better elsewhere.”
Ketaba
smiled. “You don’t understand me at all, Binta. Your spiritual and mental health are, and should be, utterly distinct from the
environment you’re in. Sure, a good and healthy environment like Agdal, with
the heat of the sun on naked flesh and plenty of healthy amenities, is far more
conducive to a positive vibe than a life confined by the Brothel walls. But one
can have an inner peace, an Agdal within, which can flourish in any place and
withstand all trials and tribulations. One’s soul can soar to the stars even
when one’s body is caged in rooms of satin, silk and polyester carpets.”
“You’re
talking nonsense, Ketaba. You really have to be blinkered to get any kind of
enlightenment here. Tell me then, for the sake of argument, what I have to do
to achieve an inner peace? Perhaps Ana will be inspired even if I won’t be.”
“I can’t
imagine Ana being at all inspired in the atmosphere of your cynicism and
doubt,” Ketaba said ruefully, but smiling affectionately at Binta’s lover. “But
what you have to remember first of all is that a healthy mind comes with a
healthy body. If one has good health coursing through your body, you look good,
you feel good and it does you good. Plenty of exercise.
That’s the order of the day.”
“We often
go swimming,” Ana remarked, aware that recently they had been rather less often
than before, as the excuse for doing so had come to seem superfluous.
“Swimming
is good. Very good!” Ketaba approved. “As is weight training, jogging, walking, squash and contact
sports. However, nothing can beat the all-round value of making love in
building up a healthy and efficient body. No other exercise is as good at
exercising the abdominal muscles, the upper torso, providing fast and rapid
breathing exercises and exerting the heart. It makes you feel good afterwards
and the perspiration cleans the skin of really deep ingrained dirt.”
“Maybe it
does when you make love with your clients, Ketaba. The clients simply leave me unsightly
bruises around my upper legs and a feeling of relief when they’re finally
through the door...”
“Again,
Binta, it’s your attitude that is at fault. If you had a more positive attitude
then you wouldn’t find the exercise so unpleasant. Besides I’m sure that not
all your lovemaking is as you describe it.” She glanced meaningfully at Ana
lying stretched out under the sheets, who blushed at the implication. She shyly
looked at Binta who had followed Ketaba’s gaze and smiled into Ana’s eyes. Ana
smiled back, and a rush of emotion caught the back of her throat. She was so
much in love!
Ketaba
seemed embarrassed by the love expressed in Ana’s smile, and hesitated before
continuing to elaborate on her philosophy of life. “So, a healthy body is
vital. And a prostitute’s life assures this. Diet is also important. Remember,
you are what you eat: so it is necessary not to pollute the body with the
unclean flesh of dead animals that have after all spent most of their lives consuming
faeces-covered grass and rotting silage. One must have a balance of vitamins,
minerals and, most important of all, an exact balance of calorific input with
the energy output for a balanced body weight and a healthy constitution. I
always keep an accurate measure of exactly how many calories I consume and my
estimated output, and adjust my diet accordingly.”
“Are you a
vegetarian merely because of what the animals you eat have eaten?” Binta wondered.
“Of course not. A rounded person must have
due respect for all living beings and eating them is disrespectful as well as
unclean,” Ketaba replied. “One should also take care of the mind and soul.
Meditation is essential. Take time to sit in a relaxed position with the back
straight and the legs crossed in the lotus position, clear the mind of thoughts
positive and negative, and enter a void where the mind can take a vacation and
the soul can soar unfettered from the trivial worries of the day. Sleep well,
and adopt a regime of regular exercise, regular meditation and
self-examination.”
“Self-examination?”
wondered Ana, thinking that maybe Ketaba was about to enthuse on an activity of
which she had been quite ashamed until Binta had encouraged her in it.
“Yes. Self-examination. Study the deep, hidden crevices of the
soul. Share the inner meanings and conflicts with others. I go to seminars each
week where we confide our darkest worries and most intimate secrets; listen to
each other with respect; applaud the courage of breaking free from the confines
of embarrassment and self-consciousness; break down the barriers that divide
people from people; and recognise our own deep loneliness.”
“It really
doesn’t sound much like fun to me,” Binta remarked. “What do you think, Ana?”
Ana hadn’t
really been paying very much attention. Her contemplations had mostly
concentrated on her lover and her beauty. She gazed at Ketaba, sensing that
Binta was taking psychological advantage of her relationship to put her
colleague ill at ease. She smiled, not wanting to offend,
sure that Ketaba’s intention was only to give the best advice.
“I’m sure
there’s something in what Ketaba’s saying.”
“And what
is that?” Binta continued. “Health, vegetables, meditation
and shouting sessions with a bunch of neurotics. I think I’d rather
remain an unreconstructed failure. And I can’t see it making me any happier
with my rôle as a prostitute.”
Ana felt
rather embarrassed for Ketaba: she didn’t deserve the scorn Binta showered on
her. She crouched up in the bed, pulling the sheets into a bundle around her
chest and over her legs. “I’ve not seen much of you recently, Ketaba. And I’m
sure your tan is deeper. Have you been away somewhere?”
“Yes, I
have! I’ve been in Agdal for a fortnight’s holiday. It’s been a wonderful
break. Across the mountains and on the beaches. Two
weeks totally unencumbered by clothes or petty prejudices. I thought you
already knew?”
“I knew
well enough, Ketaba, but Ana doesn’t get to meet you as often as I do,” Binta
explained. “I gather that exit visas are very expensive. Perhaps that’s why you
have to work so hard?”
“Yes, they
are. Yet again, I had to bribe someone at the passport office. And there were
even more people to bribe at the border crossing. But you get used to that.
Alif doesn’t make it easy for its people to leave and it’s not that welcoming
coming back either. My luggage was thrown all over the place at customs. They
said they were searching for alcohol, pornography and contraband, but the
things they confiscated like a portable radio and a hair-drier (both of which
I’d bought in Agdal) weren’t on any list of prohibited goods I’ve ever seen!”
“It must
have made you wonder why you ever came back!” remarked Binta, more sympathetically.
“What did you do on holiday? You didn’t do much meditation did you?”
“A little. But mostly I took advantage
of the superb sports facilities at the hotels and lodges I stayed at. The
swimming pools and gyms were excellent. All the latest
equipment!” Ketaba pulled back her shoulders and flexed the lean muscles
on her arms which Ana found genuinely impressive. She then tensed her waist and
Ana admired the tautness of its muscles - quite unlike the slight looseness of
her own slender waist. “And when I wasn’t in the gym or pool, it was up in the
mountains and valleys with sturdy boots and a rucksack on my back. I walked for
miles over those crags. It’s even hillier than Jebel, Binta, but you can’t
wander around Jebel in so few clothes. I was lazier on this holiday than on an
earlier one where I’d been on a sort of group outing with others intent on
enjoying the great outdoors...”
“Did you
spend your time shouting and screaming at each other on that holiday?”
“Don’t be
facetious, Binta. It wasn’t a self-awareness holiday. It was a trekking
holiday. The idea was to spend time in a group far away from the hotels and
lodges, sleeping under canvass and getting to know each other better. That was
a wonderful time. We managed to go miles without meeting a single soul. And
when you’re that remote you need the company of other people. You can easily
get lost. One hill looks pretty much the same as another when you’re surrounded
by them and there aren’t any obvious landmarks.”
“A good
opportunity for you all to bare your souls to each other, I suppose?” Binta
sneered. “You can all tell each other your most embarrassing secrets and feel
sorry for each other.”
“You make
it sound as if that’s something to be ashamed of, Binta. It’d do you a great
deal of good if you tried doing that. Mind you, it can be quite an
embarrassment in Agdal. Many people go there from countries like Alif not
because they’re confirmed naturists, but for quite different reasons. I have to
admit that although there are plenty of naturists in Agdal, they’re pretty much
in a minority. Other people go for the alcohol and drugs. They spend much of
their time sitting in bars where alcohol is sold openly over the counter, not
even requiring a medical licence. The only restrictions on alcohol and other
drugs relate to age rather than ethical or medical issues. Some go there
because they’re homosexual. You get to meet homosexual men and women, - dykes
like you, Binta, and ...”
Ketaba
stumbled in her flow. It was clear to Ana that she had intended to mention her
name, but something prevented her from being so bold. Ana wasn’t sure whether
she should feel flattered by this or worried that it suggested that Ketaba
didn’t take her relationship seriously. Ketaba actually appeared to blush, and
then she digressed slightly.
“Some
people go to Agdal for spiritual awareness. All sorts of religions are
practised in the country. Shrines are scattered all about the place for one
faith or another. That’s one big difference between Alif and Agdal. There’s
only one faith widely practised in Alif, but all possible faiths abound in
Agdal. Maybe it’s because of this diversity that the country is liberal in so
many ways. Whatever it is, you often meet people who go to Agdal to consult
gurus or to worship at particular temples. I find it interesting to discuss
astrology or the tarot or the I Ching with
the people there...”
“You’re not
into that sort of mystical mumbo-jumbo as well are you?”
“Why can’t
I have a healthy curiosity, Binta? Surely it’s better than dismissing the
occult and the mystical with no justification. Yes, I do believe that the precise moment of one’s birth and its precise
location has a great deal of importance. You ought to find out more about such
things yourself before dismissing them...”
“I’m not
sure I have the time to get involved in a load of self-indulgent nonsense. What
do you think, Ana? Would you be interested in having your palm read, your stars
interpreted and a throw of coins analysed?”
“I’m sure
it would be very interesting,” Ana answered diplomatically. She had no wish to
upset Ketaba however much she might disapprove of homosexuality. “I don’t know
if there’s anything in it, but there might be...”
“Well, if
that’s what you want to do, Ana...” Binta remarked without further comment. She
smiled at Ketaba. “Did you take many photographs of your stay in Agdal?”
“Why yes, I
did as a matter of fact. And unlike last time I was able to get my camera back
into the country without having it confiscated or having the film torn out. I
was sensible enough to take an Alif camera with me that had none of the extra
value an imported camera might have. I took loads of pictures of the places I
visited and the people I met. Do you want to see them?”
“Oh yes!”
Ana said enthusiastically.
She had
always enjoyed looking at holiday photos when she was at home in
“Perhaps I
can bring them in to the Brothel sometime and show you. Or perhaps...” Ketaba
hesitated, as if she was about to be very bold, but with a slight impulsiveness
she continued, “... perhaps I can show you them in a more conducive place than
the Brothel. Perhaps at my flat?”
“Your flat?” Ana responded. That
would be interesting. She lived in the Honey district, where all the better
paid prostitutes chose to live. “Oh yes, I don’t see why not.”
“Well just
say when. I can prepare a meal and make more of an evening of it if you like.
What do you think?”
“I think it
sounds a wonderful idea.” Ana looked sympathetically at Binta
who seemed strangely subdued by Ana’s enthusiasm. “It’s a shame you
can’t come as well, Binta. I’m sure Ketaba would invite you as well if she
could. Wouldn’t you, Ketaba?”
Ketaba
nodded eagerly, and Binta appeared reassured by this, but not wholly so. When
Ketaba left for work, Binta seemed rather thoughtful. She evaded all reference
to Ketaba and Agdal, despite Ana’s excited questions about either of them. Ana
wondered whether Binta was jealous of Ketaba: but how could that be when she
was so determinedly opposed to homosexual behaviour of any kind.
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