Naomi lay awake next to the twins who were still sleeping. She stayed on her back in the king-sized bed and she stared into the mirror that covered the ceiling. This was the first time she had slept in their room. They had taken their client, the tall white man, into this very room. They always worked together - it was what the clients wanted, and it always made Naomi wonder how it made them feel.
Instead of Malik’s ‘someone very important,’ Sisi had brought a Chinese man to Naomi. The short man’s black mask reminded her of Kato, the superhero sidekick, and since they were not allowed to know their client’s names in The Harem, she named him Kato. It always helped to give her clients names. She even had imaginary, parallel conversations with them in which they meet somewhere other than The Harem. It was always she who initiated those conversations, and she always started by introducing herself: ‘Hi, I’m Naomi. The Naomi.’
Throughout the back massage Kato asked for, Naomi kept thinking of her phone tied into a condom, submerged in water in the cistern in her room that the white girls now had. What if one of them tried to flush and checked inside to see why the toilet wasn’t flushing?
The twin on the right pulled the duvet she shared with Naomi to herself, exposing Naomi to the chill of the air conditioner. Naomi pulled it back. If only she could get her phone back. Sisi had a phone but it would be impossible to get her hands on it. She kept staring at herself in the mirror above. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and she lifted the duvet off her naked body.
Nobody in The Harem was up before midday, which was when Malik arrived. Even the workers, the few men in the boys’ quarters behind, never came to the building before then, and when they did it was only when they had been summoned by Sisi to move furniture, repair something, or tidy one of the speciality rooms or communal areas. The girls were responsible for the rooms they used and the large kitchen where they cooked their own meals.
Naomi fetched a T-shirt from her bag and pulled it over her body. She put on her glasses and opened the door, taking care not to make a sound.
The corridor was quiet and dark. She walked on tiptoes to her room where the white girls were and she opened the door. Four girls were in the bed. Another four were on the floor on duvets they had spread on the cold marble. Naomi stepped over the girls to get to the bathroom but it was shut. She looked under the door. No light. She turned the handle and opened the door. She looked behind her. The girls had not stirred. Her heart was racing. She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
The girls had arranged their toiletries all around the sink and on top of the ceramic lid of the cistern. She began to pick objects off of it one by one and place them on the ground by the bathtub until all the perfume bottles, deodorants, cleansers, and wet wipes were lined up on the bath mat.
When she stood upright her back ached. She placed her hands on either side of the lid and lifted but it scratched against the cistern and she stopped. She listened, then continued. She placed the lid on the mat next to the toiletries and dipped her hand into the water. It was icy cold. She felt around with her fingers and touched the phone, removed it, and held it up to the dull light from the window. It didn’t look like water had gotten inside.
‘What is that?’
Naomi turned round, holding up the phone inside a condom. Sisi was standing in the doorway in her black slip, hands on her hips.