A LITTLE MORE than a month has gone by, and having sex with strangers no longer holds any kind of interest for me. It’s becoming nothing more than gymnastics. In these few weeks I’ve earned almost two million pesetas, and if this continues, I’ll be able to pay back my debts much more quickly than I had ever thought. If all goes well, I’ll have settled everything within five months. I intend to carry on working in the brothel for a little longer than that, to make sure I am back on my feet financially, and then change my life again.
This afternoon I was at home doing housework when Susana called.
‘Come quickly, I’ve got two Italian clients waiting for you. You have to hurry, because they’ve got a plane to catch. Is that all right, sweetheart?’
‘That’s fine. I’ll be there, but you know I can’t fly. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Tell them to wait.’
I got ready as quickly as I could. I only had to put on some make-up, then ran out into the street to catch a taxi. It must have been fate . . . not a single one free. More than half an hour had gone by since Susana first phoned, when my mobile rang again.
‘What are you doing, sweetheart? If you don’t hurry up, I’ll have to call another girl.’
‘I know, Susana. I’m trying to take a taxi, but it’s rush hour with everyone leaving work, and I can’t find one free. Please tell the clients I’m on my way, but there’s a lot of traffic. Please, Susana!’
On another day I would have got angry with her, but today something told me it was best to stay calm. I finally reached the agency an hour later, with my eyeliner all smudged from sweating in the taxi. Susana was furious, and the two Italians were on the point of leaving.
I went into the living room straight away. They were both very elegant, as only Italian men know how to be. One, called Alessandro, was short, fat and bald. The other was tall and thin, with a twinkle in his eye that made me warm to him immediately. Giovanni was not good-looking, but his face was calm and gentle. Unfortunately, as ever, it was not up to me to choose. I walked over to the small bedroom, and found Estefania and Mae sitting there. Both of them had already been out to show themselves, but only Estefania had been chosen: by Alessandro. I felt extremely relieved that I was going with the one I had liked best.
Mae was left empty-handed, sitting on the bed smoking a cigarette. She didn’t seem to hold it against me too much, because by now we had established a sort of code of honour between us: ‘It was me the client chose, so back off!’
When Giovanni and I went into the suite, he took a quick shower. I undressed, and when he came out of the bathroom he took me in this arms. I was surprised, because clients never normally do that: they prefer to get straight into bed. We embraced each other for a few moments, then he looked at me tenderly and we kissed. We both wanted to go on kissing; there was a kind of energy between the two of us that drew us together like magnets.
We were surprised at the strength of this feeling, and starting talking, about Italy and why he had come to Spain. While we were doing so, we could hear the groans of pleasure from the next room, where both Estefania and Alessandro seemed to be enjoying themselves. Our own sexual activity never reached such heights. In the end, I masturbated Giovanni because he was too tired to attempt anything else. I was more than satisfied with the kiss he had given me. What had happened between us was something special. I had the feeling I had known him all my life: his smell, his smile, his hands. When he left he said he would be back in two days, and hoped to see me again. He also asked what my real name was.
‘The one I told you. Val is my real name, I promise you.’
‘Dai! Non é vero. So che it tuo nome é differente.’ (Come on, that’s not true. I know your real name is different.)
‘No, no, believe me. I don’t use a different name for work, if that’s what you mean.’
He left the apartment laughing, promising that the next time I would tell him my real name and give him my phone number. I don’t know anything about him, and I have no idea whether I will see him again. Men promise so many things they never do. And yet deep down inside, something told me I would run into him again.