Story of a Sociopath

  After a while, once the room had gotten much more crowded, Tyler asked that we step aside.

  “You know, I’ve heard talk about you.”

  “Bad enough to pique your interest?” I remarked, prompting a laugh.

  “Of course, young man—you’ve made yourself some enemies already.”

  “Important ones, I hope.”

  “Very clever. I don’t know if you think this is the right time, but I’d like you to work for me.”

  “Well, I work for myself.”

  “Yes, obviously—I meant hiring you for an ad campaign.”

  “What do you want to sell?” I asked with interest.

  “I work in the import business. I want to introduce a new product to the market and I need a campaign to get people’s attention.”

  “What kind of product?”

  “Underwear, made in China. The costs are very low there. There’s a company in Shanghai that’s started to make women’s underwear to cater to Western tastes. They actually just copy famous brands.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. The last thing I’d imagined doing was running a campaign to sell panties. Because honestly that’s all this was.

  Tyler stiffened when I laughed. He looked at me in disgust. He found no humor in selling panties.

  “It sounds like a tempting offer. I hope I’m of the same quality as the product you wish to sell.”

  “I see you find it funny…Do you know how much money the lingerie trade moves? I can give you the numbers and you’ll be amazed. I want to introduce these products to England and the rest of Europe. Cheap items that are well designed and competitively priced. The factory in Shanghai makes them with a material similar to silk—it has almost the same texture. There are thousands of women who can’t afford to buy underwear at La Perla, but would love to have a bra or knickers that at least make them look like they can.”

  “Understood. I assure you that this campaign will be a great challenge for me.”

  “Well then, I’ll give you my card.” Tyler seemed uncomfortable. He must have been wondering if he’d made a mistake with me. “If you want you can call me on Monday. We’ll set up an interview and if we come to an agreement the campaign will be yours.”

  “I’ll call you. It’s a very tempting job, I assure you.”

  He left me alone in the middle of the room and returned to talk with the group of men, who had just been joined by two of Madame Agnès’s girls: the redhead whom Roy liked so much, and a Brazilian who was one of the house regulars. I was going to ask for another drink when I saw Nataly, who had been waiting for me to finish speaking with Tyler.

  “I hadn’t seen you,” I said in greeting.

  “I saw you. I’ve been circling for a while trying to make sure no one noticed me so I could talk to you.”

  “You’re hard not to notice,” I said to flatter her.

  “Thank you. Now, how about we go upstairs and I’ll tell you everything I’ve found out about Yoko.”

  “Do we have to go upstairs?”

  “Yes…Well, no, actually, but this way I won’t have to go upstairs with someone else later. I’m tired.”

  “All right.”

  I asked Madame Agnès to send dinner up to one of the suites. She gave a grateful smile. She liked nothing more than when clients dined in the suites, because that increased the bill. She charged as if her chef had three Michelin stars.

  “Oh! And send us up a couple of Cokes.”

  “This girl…Champagne is the drink of love,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Naturally we’ll drink champagne, but I want Coke too,” I replied firmly.

  When we reached the suite Nataly took off her shoes and sat in an armchair. Her face lit up when the waiter appeared with an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne and a couple of Cokes.

  “You’re amazing! Huh, looks like tonight is going my way.”

  She waited until we were alone again before telling me what she had found out about Yoko:

  “Her father is English and her mother Japanese. She was born in Kyoto, but she’s lived in London since she was five. Apparently her father worked in sales and he traveled a lot to Tokyo, where he met Yoko’s mother. They got married, and though they lived in Japan at first they eventually moved to London. When Yoko was twelve, they separated. Until recently she was living with her mother. Her father remarried, this time to an Englishwoman. They see each other once in a while. She adores him—even though he split up with her mother—and he thinks she’s a perfect daughter.

  “Yoko studies English literature, she’s still got a couple of years to go. Until a year ago her mother was paying for her fees but now she can’t anymore. Apparently she lost her job and decided to go back to Japan. Yoko didn’t want to go with her. She lives on her own, and with the money she makes here she’s paying for university and her flat. She’s going out with a guy studying medicine. His name’s Dave, he’s English. His father’s a famous doctor, they have a house in Richmond and a mansion in the countryside. Dave’s taken her back home a couple of times and his parents have liked her. They like that she’s a good girl who’s trying to get ahead. That’s it.”

  Nataly looked at me, satisfied that she’d found the information that was going to net her no less than five hundred pounds.

  “Does she live with this guy?” I asked distractedly.

  “Not exactly, but they do spend a lot of time together.”

  “Does he know that she comes here?”

  “Of course not! This isn’t something you talk about at home, not even with your best friend, let alone a boyfriend.”

  “Do you have the address of Yoko’s apartment?”

  “Yes, but it’ll cost you more.”

  “Well, aren’t you the businesswoman! All right, two hundred pounds extra.”

  “That’s not very much.”

  “Don’t push your luck, Nataly,” I warned her.

  From the tone of my voice she realized that I could get angry. She was smart, and knew when to back off.

  “No harm in trying…All right, five hundred pounds is fine.”

  “I said two hundred.”

  “Two hundred?” She made a face, hoping I’d accept her price.

  “How did you find all this out?” I asked.

  “At university. I have a friend who works in the admin department and she found her file for me. From there it wasn’t difficult to find people who knew her. I even talked with her myself.”

  “About what?”

  “One day I pretended to bump into her at university—she was surprised to see me there. We’d never met there before. She was startled, and thought I would say something that would give the two of us away. I didn’t even say hello to her—she was with a group of people and I just walked by. But on Tuesday we were both here and she was the one who approached me.

  “She told me she was grateful that I hadn’t given any sign that I recognized her in front of her friends so she didn’t have to explain how we knew each other. I told her that she didn’t have to worry, that I prefer discretion just like she does. She looked relieved.”

  “Is she coming tonight?”

  “I don’t know. She told me that she had an exam on Monday and needed to study all weekend, but that doesn’t mean she won’t still come here for a little while. It depends on whether she has bills to pay. She often comes Fridays, same as me, so you might be in luck.”

  “How much more do you need for admission to Oxford?” I asked out of curiosity.

  “Less and less, but I still need to come here a couple more nights. But hey, what can you do?”

  “You could find another job.” I said this without the slightest hint of judgment.

  “But I wouldn’t earn what I do here and I’d have to work all day. This job isn’t particularly pleasant, there are some really ugly guys—but they do pay well.”

  “Are you going to do this for the rest of your life?”

  “One day I’ll be a world-renowned sc
ientist, but until then…”

  “And do your parents know?”

  “Of course not! They think I work in the coatroom of a respectable club where men go to play bridge or drink malt whiskey while they doze off in their armchairs. They would never suspect I was capable of doing something like this.”

  “And what if one day your father decides to come to work with you?”

  “That wouldn’t happen. Anyway, my father gets up early to go to work—when he comes back in the evening he’s exhausted. I’m a model daughter. I’ve always had good grades and now I’m working to pay for Oxford. They couldn’t ask for more.”

  We had dinner, chatting about this and that. And we laughed together. Nataly was very witty and loved to imitate people.

  After dinner she stretched out on the sofa. She knew I wanted my pound of her flesh for the money I’d paid for dinner. And I did.

  When we returned to the main room it was buzzing. Conversations, laughter, the indefatigable waiters serving clients, Madame Agnès insisting that the men drink champagne, the girls sussing out the highest bidders. And Yoko. There she was, talking to the same geriatric from the other night. She was listening distractedly and her smile looked like a mask. I told Nataly I wanted to be alone for a while. She shrugged and said quietly to me: “Be careful. Madame Agnès doesn’t want her clients falling in love with any of us. And she doesn’t let us be with more than one client per night. You know the rules.” I knew them, yes, but I didn’t care if I broke them.

  I stood in a corner where I could observe Yoko without her being aware of my presence. I was fascinated by the delicacy of her movements, her sphinxlike face, her strange beauty. I don’t know how long I spent watching her, but she suddenly seemed to sense my gaze because she located me in the room and fixed her eyes on mine. I read nothing in them, and recognized no emotion; she simply looked at me.

  I approached her and the old man and greeted them. The man shook my hand reluctantly while Yoko nodded her head slightly.

  “Will you permit me to share a glass of champagne with the two of you? It’s too noisy tonight and I’m in need of some quiet conversation.”

  The old man looked at me in shock at my flagrant violation of Madame Agnès’s house rules. No gentleman was to interfere when another was with a girl.

  “We were about to retire upstairs,” replied the man, annoyed.

  At that moment Madame Agnès appeared, and from her expression I could see that she was displeased by my behavior.

  “My dear Duke, we’ve prepared pheasant with grapes for your dinner, just how you like it, and a little foie gras for our darling girl. The waiter is ready to serve you dinner.”

  The duke took Yoko gently by the arm and, with a slight nod, headed to the hallway to go up to one of the suites. I was left alone with an unimpressed Madame Agnès.

  “Mr. Spencer, it wasn’t very considerate of you to interrupt the conversation between the duke and the young lady. You put them in an awkward situation. I think you know the rules of this house well enough. A gentleman never steps in when one of the young ladies is with another gentleman. You also know it’s a house rule that the gentlemen who honor me with their presence do not become infatuated with any of my girls, far less show it. We are all adults here.”

  “I’m sorry to offend you, Madame Agnès, that wasn’t my intention. And you must know that my time with Nataly has been extremely satisfying—she’s a charming young lady. So I really wasn’t looking for the attentions of any of the other ladies. I only wanted to talk awhile, though perhaps I didn’t choose my conversation partners well enough.”

  Madame Agnès knew that I was lying. But she had no other option than to accept my apology. She knew that Yoko was becoming an obsession for me. She’d seen cases like mine before.

  I was tempted to leave, but I didn’t feel like going back to my apartment to drink alone. At least here I could take part in some meaningless conversation to help while away the hours. I also wanted to try my luck and attempt to follow Yoko after she had finished with the duke. And luck smiled upon me.

  I had been starting to get impatient, wondering what this old fogy could possibly be doing with Yoko. Two hours had passed since Madame Agnès had told them their dinner was ready.

  I was about to leave when I saw them reappear in the room. The man said goodbye to her with a kiss on the hand. Yoko nodded her head slightly before disappearing into the hallway in search of her coat. I didn’t waste a minute and left the young girl I’d been talking to without even saying goodbye.

  Yoko had left the house. It seemed to take ages for the maid to bring me my coat.

  I saw Yoko just as she was about to get in a taxi, and I ran toward her, calling her name, not caring if anybody noticed me. She turned around, surprised. She stood immobile next to the car. When I reached her I gently pushed her into the cab and then got in myself.

  “I’ll take you home, but first let’s have a drink somewhere. There’s a place in Soho that’s very trendy, I think you’ll like it.”

  She didn’t reply. She didn’t even look at me. I gave the taxi driver the address and we didn’t speak until we reached the bar.

  I asked the maître d’ to find us a quiet table, which was a lot to ask because the place was so full you could barely move, but he managed it. Of course I had greased his palm generously.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “Water,” she said calmly.

  I ordered a whiskey for myself and for her a bottle of that very expensive mineral water that snobs drink. Yoko seemed absent. She was next to me but she wasn’t with me.

  “I’m glad you agreed to go for a drink. You know something? I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

  “You forced me to come.”

  “You didn’t say no either.”

  “What could I have done? Screamed? Madame Agnès would have heard. She doesn’t want any scandals.”

  “I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” I insisted.

  “But you shouldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “As soon as I can I’m going to stop going to Madame Agnès’s. So you won’t see me anymore.”

  Her words surprised me. They were stern, but her soft and even tone made it sound as if they were wrapped in cellophane.

  “I’m not interested in what you do at Madame Agnès’s. I’m interested in you.”

  “Thomas…Yes, you said your name was Thomas or maybe someone told me, I don’t remember. You see, Thomas, you’re not part of my world, and I don’t want you in it. We met in a certain place and under certain circumstances, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to become friends, or that we’ll have any relationship beyond the walls of that house. I have my life and you have yours. And as I said, I don’t want you in mine. And now I’m begging you to let me leave.”

  I didn’t let her. I grabbed her arm so hard she could not stand up. I played my hand. Thanks to Nataly, I had an ace up my sleeve.

  “We’ll have a drink and then we’ll go to your flat. I’ll stay as long as I want, and that will be how it always is from now on.”

  Yoko looked at me in shock, as if she didn’t understand what I had just said.

  “I don’t like women who drink water,” I added, “so start thinking about what you want—whiskey, champagne, gin…whatever you prefer.”

  She remained silent, but looked at me fearfully. The waiter arrived with what we’d asked for and I asked him to bring a gin and tonic as well. I’d decided that was what she would drink.

  “I want to leave, Thomas. You can’t keep me here,” she said in a voice so quiet it was practically a whisper.

  “But I can, Yoko. I don’t think you’d like your boyfriend, Dave, to know that you’re a whore. Much less his parents.”

  I could see her trembling. Her body seemed to grow weaker as she sunk into her seat. She looked at me in horror, as if I had turned into a monster.

  “I don’t understand…”

&nbsp
; “It’s very simple. I want to sleep with you: I don’t know for how long, it could be a day, two weeks, or three years. When I get tired I’ll let you know. You have no other option. If you say no, Dave and his parents will find out what you do. Your father too, and even your mother—even though she’s in Japan, she’ll get the news.”

  “No…You can’t…I’ll go and talk to Madame Agnès right now…She won’t let you back in her house.”

  “It’s in Madame Agnès’s interests to keep this quiet. She won’t want the newspapers hearing about the kind of business she runs and the names of the gentlemen who go there every night to sleep with her whores.”

  “I’ve done nothing to you to make you want to harm me,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “You’re very good in bed. That’s all it is, nothing more.”

  “You can see me at Madame Agnès’s…” she said, as if it were a plea.

  “No, I don’t want to see you there. I’ll see you when and where I want. You will be at my disposal whenever it pleases me. It’s that simple. Accept it. If you do, then neither Dave nor his parents nor yours will find out you’re a whore. If you decline I’ll make sure they know.”

  “But…”

  “Your only other option is throwing yourself in the Thames. Imagine, not just your family and your boyfriend but all of your classmates and professors knowing that you’re a whore.”

  She stayed silent. Immobile. Her eyes glazed over. A trancelike expression had fallen across her face. I savored my whiskey as I watched her. I was savoring my power over her too. I was the master of her fate. Her destiny depended on me and that gave me such satisfaction that it made me laugh. She looked at me, not understanding the reason behind my laughter.

  “That night I was with you…I knew you weren’t a good person. There was something evil in you,” she managed to say.

  “Wonderful. That means you’re safe in the knowledge that I’m capable of going through with my threat. Now drink your gin and tonic and we’ll go to your place.”

  I gave her the glass and she took barely a sip. I wouldn’t let her put the glass back down. I kept holding on to her arm, knowing I was hurting her.