|
|
18 |
|
Ana’s life had set into a
pattern in which on the whole she was still blissfully happy. As long as she
could meet Binta every day how could her life be otherwise? She hardly ever
spent the night in her own flat: she normally stayed behind at the Brothel with
Binta and relished their hours together spent on her bed, trying never to think
about all the men that had also been there during the day and had forced
themselves onto her lover. She loved everything about Binta. Every
freckle, every dimple, every blemish. She loved Binta’s body: so slim,
so elegant, so perfect. She loved the sound of Binta’s voice and its assertive
tone. She loved the feel of Binta’s long hair as it fell over her own naked
buttocks, the warmth of her skin, the salty taste of her sweat, and the ivory
hardness of her teeth nibbling her skin. Ana was so lucky to be in love with
someone as truly perfect as Binta, and honoured that her love was so abundantly
reciprocated.
Being in love made her days in the office so much more bearable. She hated it when Mr Madir made his usual coarse comments, a cigarette
forever lit and inserted into his cigarette holder, and dark bristles outlined
against his pale greasy skin. “That new girl,” he might say. “She’s got tits like melons even if her face is like a monkey. But when
you’re stoking the fire, as they say...” Or he might say: “You’re no boiler,
Ana sweetheart, not like these bloody Deltas we’ve just taken on. Pity the
client who can’t afford better. Let’s hope they’re blind, eh?” Or he might say
when a prostitute had left his office after one of his mysterious interviews:
“Wooahh! If they all had her talents, we’d be pricing ourselves right out of
the market!”
These
comments were bad enough, but even worse was his irrepressible tendency to
touch her on the flimsiest of excuses. Her bottom might be pinched if he found
her bending over to pick something up. His hand would brush uncomfortably
against her breasts. He might place a hand firmly on her knee and she would be
forced to go through the humiliation of asking him to remove it, against his
assertions that there was something decidedly wrong with her or his accusations
that she was just an intolerable prude. Sometimes he even greeted her as ‘the
tight-legged Ana’ or ‘the convent girl secretary’ or, most foully of all, ‘cock
teaser’. However, Ana learnt to ignore these remarks and put out of her mind
his rather too frequent suggestions that she boost her income by taking on some
part time prostitution.
“I just
don’t want to, Mr Madir,” Ana replied firmly. “I’m quite happy with what I’m
earning at the moment.”
“Perhaps I
should give you a pay cut,” suggested the Director unkindly. “Then maybe you’d
be less happy and more willing to take an active part in the work of this
Brothel.”
“I wouldn’t
do it if it were the only way to earn a living!”
“But it’s
not a bad living. Khedra’s told you all about its benefits, hasn’t she? I simply
can’t understand your reluctance. I’m sure you’d make the perfect working
girl.”
Ana shook
her head vehemently. “Not now. Not ever. I’m paid to work as a secretary and
that’s all I want to do!”
“You’re a
tough nut to crack!” smiled Mr Madir with grim good humour. “And I thought Inta
was bad enough. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to regard the opportunities
provided by the Brothel in a more constructive light?”
Ana was
sure that he couldn’t, but fortunately the Director was not in the reception
area of the office for most of the day and she could get on with her duties
without worrying about him too much. However, whenever he appeared, a spark of
electricity would shoot up her spine and she could feel the colour vanish from
her cheeks. Most of her time was occupied in the minutiae of organising
correspondence and filling up the Director’s diary with all the duties he was
expected to perform. Some of the Director’s tasks took him out of the Brothel
for days on end and involved meeting illustrious members of the government or
civil service. Often his work kept him in other parts of the building for what
purposes Ana didn’t know, didn’t care and was simply relieved that he was
absent. Sometimes the Director left the office in the afternoon with a bag of
golf-clubs and hideous smelling cigars which he thankfully rarely smoked when
Ana was around. On these and other occasions, Ana felt particularly happy and
worked so much better, her stray thoughts focused entirely on her lover.
Often Ana
and Binta would meet together in the canteen, particularly when Binta’s working
day finished late. Ana would leave the office, and make her way along the
tortuous series of corridors that the Director had escorted her on her first
day and were now so very familiar that she often paced her walk by counting off
the rooms she passed. She had become so used to the array of green and red
lights above the rooms and the sight of women tottering by on their punishing stilettos,
that it surprised her when it crossed her mind as to what it all purported. She
would be greeted cheerily by the canteen staff, who
had a particular affection towards her, probably because she was one of the
very few people who frequented there (especially after working hours) who was
not a prostitute. They would often pass kindly words regarding the weather or
whatever they had seen on television.
Ana would
take her cup of coffee and sometimes a cake to nibble, and almost always sat in
the same position against the wall where she could most easily spot Binta when
she arrived. While waiting, she would sip her coffee slowly and watch the other
girls in their red and black leather, lace and acrylic
gather in larger groups, cackling in coarse bawdy humour and inevitably light
up an array of cigarettes as soon as they sat down. They might notice Ana and
stare at her, as well they might as no one else wore
such obviously modest clothes as she. Some recognised her as the Director’s
secretary and were particularly friendly to her. Ana had come to realise that
although at first the prostitutes might seem threatening or not altogether
wholesome, once she had any dealing with them - perhaps in arranging travel
expenses, holiday pay or sterilisation fees - they never seemed like mere
prostitutes again. She felt excluded from the girls’ lives, and evidently this
was a gulf that was mostly respected and honoured.
It might be
as much as two hours that Ana would wait for Binta: a wait that became
increasingly agitated as she wondered what might be detaining her. She might
read a newspaper to pass the time, although she often found the adulatory
articles about President Marmeluke and the wisdom of his policies somewhat
tedious. There was always a story about an alcohol bust, the shamefulness of
the dealers and the wretched lives of alcohol takers. Most articles seemed
perversely remote from the world that Ana knew, especially of the Brothel which
was never once alluded to, although it always pleased her to read about her
home district of Rif. Even there, the articles about new dams, educational
schemes and agricultural initiatives appeared to have little or nothing to do
with the
After a
torturously long time, Ana was delighted to see the naked form of Binta appear,
followed by the still disapproving stares of more fully dressed girls, who
would greet her from the distance with a smile. She wandered over to Ana, who
noted how much her face was disguising a degree of frustration and agitation.
“I’m sorry
I’m late but Kesira, my shift supervisor, kept me,” Binta remarked, standing by
Ana’s table. “There’d been another complaint from a client about my
performance. He’d said I was too quick and wouldn’t do what he’d asked me to
do. That might be true, but I’m not obliged to do everything they ask me to do.
That’d be horrid! Kesira said that if I wasn’t careful, I’d be downgraded to a
Beta Minus or even a Gamma Plus, but why should I care? It’s not as if I
actually get paid according to my grade, or any other grade for that matter.
And I long gave up believing I’d actually gain any remission for pretending to
be more enthusiastic.”
“Do you
think you might be downgraded?” wondered Ana, who couldn’t understand why her
lover wasn’t graded an Alpha or an Alpha Plus if beauty was the sole criterion.
“I don’t
know. I don’t care. It’s all theoretical. I don’t think they would though. They
earn more from me if they keep my grade up. Anyway, I’ll get a cup of coffee.
Do you want one, Ana sweetest?”
Ana nodded
and watched as her lover wandered over to the counter, ordered herself a couple
of cups and chatted idly with the girl behind the counter. As a prisoner she
didn’t pay for anything she ordered in the canteen, and when she ordered
anything she ensured that Ana didn’t pay either. She strolled back holding the
two cups, placed them on the table and sat down opposite Ana, briefly stroking
her legs under the table as a substitute to the kiss on the mouth that would be
so unwise to publicly indulge in. Binta didn’t want to add any substance to the
suspicions she felt her friendship with Ana might have already engendered.
“I hate
working here!” Binta declared again. “But there’s not too many more months of
my sentence left, and then I’ll be free to lead my own life and not have to
suffer all these disgusting men. And would you believe that at the same time as
saying I’m no good at the job, they’ve already started sending me career advice
to persuade me to stay working here when my sentence finishes?”
“You
wouldn’t do that, would you?” gasped Ana, who more than anything else wanted to
end the nightmare of suppressing her worries of what her lover was enduring
from her clients every day.
Binta
squeezed Ana’s knee affectionately under the table. “Of
course not. Every single client is a hell I never want to repeat. I’m
sure they do it automatically. In fact, didn’t you say that they’ve even
approached you?”
“Yes, but I
couldn’t! I wouldn’t!”
“Of course,
you wouldn’t!” Binta agreed reassuringly. “And I wouldn’t either. They always
want more prostitutes to replace those who leave, like I will soon. And when I
leave, we’ll live together and forget this horrid place altogether.”
Ana nodded. “Then I’ll be able to leave
too. I wouldn’t have to work for that odious Mr Madir just to be able to see
you. It’ll be wonderful, won’t it? The two of us together.
We could lead an ordinary life and be a normal couple...”
“Well,
almost a normal couple,” remarked Binta with a sardonic smile. “We could walk
the streets of the city. We could sit in cafés and see the world. And I’ll be
able to wear clothes again. I haven’t worn a stitch for so long.”
Binta
glanced down at her naked body which had the even tan she cultivated in the
Brothel sun beds. Ana wasn’t at all sure she wanted even the smallest part of
her lover’s gorgeous body hidden from sight, but she recognised that it would
be totally impractical to be a full-time naturist working and living anywhere
else in Alif.
“And I’ll
be able to show you
“And
perhaps I could show you Jebel,” Binta countered, “even though I’m not too sure
I ever want to go there again. It’s beautiful. It’s the most beautiful place
you can imagine. But after the way I was treated there, and the way people
would treat me if I returned, I don’t think I could face it. Although it would
please me so much if you were to see my home. I think about it so often.” Binta
dropped her head sadly, and grasped Ana’s hand for reassurance. “I may never
see it again though.”
“I’m sure
you will,” said Ana, without conviction.
“Perhaps
Zabba is right. Perhaps we will have to make our life in Blad. What do you
think of Blad? I see so little of it from inside here in the Brothel. I’d never
visited it before I came here. Do you think we could make a life here?”
“Of course
we could. We’d have to find a new flat together, because I wouldn’t be able to
stay in my present apartment if I left the Brothel. But it wouldn’t matter what
it was like or where it was, as long as we were together, and the Brothel was
far behind us. Our life would be so much better. I could visit Jebel and you
could visit
Binta
smiled broadly. “That would be so good. Life would be so fulfilling. No more
Pimple. No more Khedra, Kesira or whoever. No more filthy minded, unhygienic
clients. An ordinary life and someone to share it with. It seems such a modest,
such a simple ambition. Surely, it isn’t too much to ask for. Even if we do have to live in Blad!”
“Oh dear!” sighed
Ana. “You’re not really that keen on living in the city are you?”
Binta
smiled sadly. “Not that keen. I’d much rather live in the country again. I am
still a country girl, and I don’t feel any enthusiasm for Blad’s noise, hustle
and bustle. I’d prefer the country air, the blue sky, and everything else I
miss from Jebel. But Zabba is right, there’s nowhere else in Alif we could live
as a couple without being found out again by snooping neighbours, and then we’d
both be incarcerated in a brothel or prison. And, anyway, how would I get a job
in the country with my criminal record?”
Ana nodded
her head. “But do we have to live in Alif? Couldn’t we live in Agdal? Ketaba
thinks it’s a pretty good place and we wouldn’t have to worry about breaking
the law there. We could really lead ordinary lives.”
Binta’s
face lit up. “I suppose you’re right. It’s obvious really. Just because
Ketaba’s so keen on it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be any good for us. Nobody
would hold my criminal record against me in Agdal, and we could be just like an
ordinary couple. But I can’t believe it can be that easy. I can’t see the Alif
government letting us leave. And why would the Agdal government welcome us?
They’ve already got plenty of people much better qualified than either of us
who can bring a lot more wealth with them. And if we had to bribe our way in,
how could we afford to do it? I haven’t got any money. Have you?”
“Well some.
But not very much.”
“Ketaba can
afford to go to Agdal. She earns a lot of money. But even she says it’s
expensive. I don’t think we could. We won’t be able to get the papers together,
we can’t afford it and I don’t know that they’d even want us anyway.”
Ana sighed
disconsolately. She picked up her cup and sipped at the coffee. “It would be
nice, though, if we could. Ketaba’s photographs were very nice. Agdal seemed
such a lovely place. It’d be good just to have a holiday there. And there’s an
awful lot of countryside. There are mountains and hills, just like in Jebel.”
“A lot more
mountains than Jebel, I’d have thought. Jebel’s not really that mountainous.
And Agdal’s by the sea as well. I’d love to see the sea. All that water! And
sand as well! We could sit under palm trees on the beach and watch the sun come
down. Oh! It would be so nice to live somewhere like that. And we could be open
about our love for each other. We wouldn’t have to be secretive. We could kiss
in public. We wouldn’t have to pretend to be just friends. And people wouldn’t
think we were perverts if they knew. They’d just accept it! Think how different
my love affair with Mezyana would have been if we’d lived in Agdal rather than
Alif.”
Binta
stroked Ana’s knee, but seeing her longing gaze Ana did not feel at all
reassured. She still felt unsure about her rôle in Binta’s life after her
meeting with Mezyana, and often felt the heavy weight of guilt whenever she
reflected on the love that the novice still expressed towards her lover. It had
been so difficult reporting her meeting, and not only because of the pain the encounter caused her. She felt anguish as she
observed Binta’s great interest and concern towards her former lover. Could she
be so certain that she wasn’t merely a temporary aside in Binta’s great
lifelong romance which would be revived once both of them had finished their
sentences?
“If we had
lived in Agdal,” Binta mused, “we would never have been parted. We could have
been like a married couple. We would never have had to hide our love from other
people.” She looked into Ana’s eyes and must have noticed her discomfort. “Oh, Ana! Oh, sweetheart! Oh, dearest! Don’t think that just
because I love Mezyana ... loved Mezyana ... that my love for you is any less
strong. She is in my past, and had we not been separated by the law who knows
what might have been? Who knows? But that is only speculation. What matters is
our love together. Don’t be jealous of Mezyana. We’re together. And that’s what
matters! Isn’t it?”
Ana nodded. “That’s what matters!” She
stared at her cup sadly and then looked up imploringly. “Oh,
Binta! Please stay with me. Please say you’ll always love me. I couldn’t
bear to be without you. Your love for me is the most precious thing in my life.
Everything else is unimportant. Please always love me. You are my whole life.”
She was conscious of tears welling inside her eyes, and of sniffles coagulating
in her nostrils. “Please always be with me. I love you so much!”
“And I love
you!” insisted Binta, looking rather sad and a little guilty. She squeezed
Ana’s hand under the table so tightly that their palms sweated together. “Don’t
ever think otherwise. I love you. And
I want you more than you could possibly know. Just don’t ever believe anything else.”
|
|
|
