Craved

  My sisters have left already. I am still here, staring at myself. I try to convince my inner mess to match the picture I see in the mirror: my smoky eyes with long, flirtatious eyelashes, and the light-pink lips that bring out the glowing blue of my eyes. My long straight hair, which I highlighted just before we left Ukraine, is pumped up in a few places with a zigzag iron. It looks volumized and funky. I decided on black hotpants and a silver see-through top that ties up below my black push-up bra – which has nothing to push up but definitely helps to make my boyish chest more feminine. Although the costume is slightly worn out it’s comfortable, and reveals my perfectly flat tummy, shapely legs and firm thighs. And it will look just fine in the darkness of the club. The twenty-centimeter-heel shoes I bought back in Luxembourg make the whole look work, bringing Barbie from the toyshop shelf to life. It neither gives nor takes – it’s slutty, but not cheap.

  ‘I look amazing and I will tear apart whoever gets in my way tonight,’ I repeat in my head like a mantra, and take a deep breath. As I slowly breathe out, the panic fights its way back and my heart gets lost in my stomach again...

  Oh my God! I am going to faint!

  ‘Nervous?’

  One of the girls with curly, long, blond hair says without looking at me, adding a thick layer of red lipstick to her puffy lips. ‘Have you worked before?’

  I wring my hands and nod. ‘In Luxembourg and Turkey.’

  The girl tilts her head back and loud, but genuine and pleasant, laughter forces its way out, flashing her white perfect teeth. ‘What’s your name?’ She is still cackling when she asks.

  ‘Julia,’ I say, waiting for some sort of explanation for her sudden amusement.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Julia. I am Nikita.’

  She turns away from the mirror and looks at me. ‘Well, Julia, you mustn’t worry. This is a playground in comparison. All you need to do is walk around with a smile. Just don’t sit with the clients, unless they pay you for it. It’s not like drinking in Europe, when we had to hatch them like chicks for hours. The movement is the key.’ She smiles and walks out.

  ‘Thanks,’ I mumble after her.

  I take another deep breath and walk out. The place is dark and I wait first for my eyes to adjust. The shivers chain my body right away. The air-cons and my nerves, like accomplices, conspire against me. One more deep breath, drawing the familiar fusion of sweet and sticky perfumes and cigarette fumes.

  This place is no different from where I’ve worked before. I can do it.

  I see my sisters at the bar and head towards them.

  ‘Wow, there are at least a hundred girls.’ Lena looks around.

  As Natalia opens her mouth to comment, the loud voice of the DJ through the speakers makes all three of us shrug. ‘Hello everyone.’ I check my watch, it’s 7 p.m. sharp.

  ‘Stella on stage. Stella on stage,’ he calls with a quieter voice, then turns the music up, walks out of the DJ booth and heads towards us.

  ‘There is not even one client and he’s calling the girls onto the stage already. That’s what I call discipline,’ Natalia wisecracks.

  ‘The new arrivals?’ The man is very tall and very skinny. ‘How are you, girls? My name is Jeff. I am a DJ.’ He gives us a full smile and shakes our hands. His genuine friendliness seems inappropriate for the sex industry’s usual tough image. ‘Come with me. We need to straighten a few things out.’ He turns around and we follow him.

  The DJ booth is a small, dark room that is built on a meter-high square podium, its only window looking at the stage with a massive turntable under it.

  ‘All I need from you is to listen to what I say into the mic.’ He doesn’t look at us, pressing one earphone between his head and shoulder while moving one of the numerous dials on the turntable.

  ‘Every two songs, a new girl comes onto the stage. If the place is packed, I call two or three girls at the same time. Now, you hear your name, you leave whatever you are doing and start walking backstage. Your only excuse is if you are in private with a customer or on the loo with the trots.’ All three of us grin, but he remains serious and continues.

  ‘At the start of every hour, there is a fantasy show. The shows are scheduled the week before, so you know in advance which day and time yours is. This week you are off the hook, so you’ll have a few days to work out which show you would like to do and to give me your signed music CDs.’

  Luckily Irina has told us about the shows. They’re three-song themed performances that we are free to choose ourselves. One of our neighbors in Kherson, a dressmaker, made our costumes. Natalia decided to do a belly dance. She used some cool Arabic music she’s had since living in Turkey. The long, black-and-red chiffon skirt on the hand-embroidered, beaded belt and bra looked fantastic on Natalia’s curvy body. Lena came up with a typical white-and-gold princess dress and Enigma’s endless ‘Return to Innocence’ and another two annoyingly slow tunes. I decided to spice it up and do a Little Red Riding Hood with a hard-core twist.

  ‘Our shows are ready. We’ll bring our music tomorrow,’ replies Natalia.

  ‘Good. Now for the names…’ Jeff grabs his notepad and pen.

  ‘Is Natalia available?’ My elder sister responds first.

  ‘Fine.’ He writes it down and looks at Lena. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I also want to use my real name. Is Lena available?’ she asks, trying to peep at his pad.

  He presses his lips together. ‘No, honey, it’s taken.’

  ‘And Nikita?’ Lena looks at me.

  I bite my bottom lip but before I can say anything, Jeff rules it out too.

  Lena rubs her hands as if she is failing a school exam.

  ‘What about Emily?’ Natalia jumps to the rescue.

  The DJ checks his notepad and looks approvingly at Lena. ‘Yeah, Emily is not being used. What do you say?’

  ‘Okay,’ Lena smiles, relieved. ‘I like Emily.’

  ‘Julia?’ I say, digging in my head through other names, just in case. Victoria is definitely out of the question – too many bad memories. I need a fresh start… maybe Jennifer or Monica?

  He looks for a few seconds, nods and writes my name down.

  ‘All I want from you is to listen when I call the names. Do it and we’ll stay best friends.’ He smiles and adds, ‘And now, girls, go and make some money!’ He turns away and calls another girl onto the stage.

  We get back to the floor. The club starts getting busy. Except for a few girls who have started their hunt, the rest ignore the arriving clients and continue chatting to each other.

  ‘Hmm… interesting.’ Natalia looks at the unoccupied clients. ‘Even better… Shall we?’

  Lena looks at the bar and mumbles, ‘I think I need a drink first… just to calm my nerves. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.’

  The wave of anxiety washes back in to continue my torment. Sneaky thoughts of joining Lena fill my mind. I shrug and follow Natalia.

  We walk towards two men drinking beer in silence while staring at the stage.

  ‘Hello boys! May we join you?’ Natalia exclaims through the loud music and drops on the lap of the guy with the glasses and the I-am-intimidated-by-beautiful-women expression on his face. She clenches his neck, as if they’ve known each other for years, and whispers in his ear, waving her boobs in front of his nose.

  She’s a natural.

  The one who has fallen to my lot is much more confident. As I try to emulate Natalia’s move he pushes the empty chair towards me.

  ‘Use a chair,’ he says, without laying his eyes on me.

  ‘Hi, my name is Julia.’ I comply with his request and extend my hand.

  ‘Jaco.’ He finally looks at me, showing no excitement, and shakes my hand.

  ‘How’s your night going, Jaco? Are you guys having fun?’ I ask, and try to think of what to say next. But nothing comes into my sober brain.

  It simply refuses to function without fuel. Come on… Wake up! Work with me here!

  ‘It’s goo
d, thanks,’ he answers, and returns his stare to the stage.

  That’s it? Not even ‘And how are you?’

  I am desperately searching for the words to continue the conversation, but self-doubt is taking over. Instead of coming up with something to say, my mind is wondering whether I’ve chosen the right outfit, whether I should get more aggressive and try to touch his hand, or whether I don’t know what else. I pull the cigarettes out of my little silver bag and strike my lighter five times before I light one.

  With a loud laugh, Natalia gets up off the shy one, pulls him to his feet and drags him to the private room.

  How did she do it so quickly? I am not even close.

  My guy stays silent and totally ignores my presence. He sips his beer and stares at the stage.

  Well, I don’t know what to say in this situation, except for, ‘Would you like to have a lap dance too?’

  He gives me a pitiful smile. ‘No. Maybe later,’ and goes back to his beer.

  I kill the remains of my cigarette in the ashtray, get up and walk away.

  Relax. So what if Jaco is a dick? Keep smiling and move on.

  I spot Lena with a customer at the bar. They both look interested in each other, talking and drinking, laughing a lot. I fight the urge to join them: once again to feel the magic warmth and relaxation that tequila so generously hands out.

  Stop thinking about it! Coming back from that was too hard to be thrown away just because of one jerk. Smile and keep walking!

  I go through another three customers. They reject me with the same unenthusiastic niceness as the first one.

  What the hell? Maybe this job was designed only for girls who drink? Yeah, whatever… smile and walk!

  Two more ‘maybe-laters’ and the thoughts of a cold shot of tequila or double vodka red bull take a much more demanding position in my head. I even begin to taste liquor in my mouth.

  ‘Julia!’ Someone is shouting. I turn towards the voice.

  Nikita waves to me. She is at a table with two customers.

  ‘Why don’t you give us a table dance?’ she exclaims when I approach. ‘Gentlemen!’ she announces theatrically. ‘This pretty girl is new here. We have to support her.’

  ‘Welcome to South Africa,’ the men say in unison. ‘Yeah! Why not? Good idea, Nikita!’ The one on the right from my new friend hugs and kisses her on the cheek.

  Nikita calls a waitress to wipe a table.

  ‘You dance for two songs. Panties off on the second one.’ She pauses and winks at me. ‘And stop shaking. You’ll be fine.’

  I take my shoes off and climb onto the table.

  The song begins. I start moving and my nerves calm down. I simply repeat everything I learned in the peep show. First I kneel with my legs spread wide and take off my top, leaving my bra on for a while. Then I lie on my back and slide my hotpants off, keeping my G-string on. I move slowly, brushing and stroking my body. I turn in different directions, making sure they get a view from all perspectives. When the second song begins I lose my G-string and show my pussy in abundance. The main ingredient of my recipe is my readiness for eye contact with a playful smile. But because men seldom look up – too busy staring at my genitals – I manage to glance at Nikita, catching her nods of approval. Before I know it, the second song is over and all three of my spectators clap and praise me.

  ‘Nikita!’ The one on the left shouts through the music. ‘You lied to us. This girl is a pro!’

  I get off the table and dress.

  ‘What’s your name?’ He waves to a waiter.

  ‘Julia. I am glad you enjoyed my dance!’

  ‘It was very good. Order something.’ He points towards the waiter who is already standing next to me. ‘Have a drink and then take me for a lap dance. I want to experience all the weapons of seduction you hide under your pretty smile.’

  I order a Coke and mouth my thank you to Nikita.

  She leans towards me.

  ‘I told you, you’ll be fine. No matter how badly this job has treated me, it hasn’t come close to what I had to go through in Ukraine right after my husband was shot in a street fight, leaving me jobless with three kids. That’s what I call a stress. The table dance not so much.’

  We look at each other with understanding and both light a cigarette.

  6

  I open my eyes and don’t move for some time, staring at the ceiling. It’s something after twelve. I stretch, and sharp pain pierces my body. It surprisingly insists that I have muscles in places I never thought existed and annoyingly reminds me of my lousy night. What the hell? Natalia was running up and down to the private room as if she were spread with honey, while I managed only three dances. Three! That’s including the table dance Nikita called me for. Oh, and a tip of R50! It was 3:30, the club was about to close, and the guy (whom I'd bothered for the third time already) felt sorry for me. He refused to have a dance but shoved a note into my hand, as if I were a homeless person who had asked for a handout.

  I don’t know what pisses me off more: all the just-nows and maybe-laters from numerous customers last night, or the contented smile on Natalia’s face on the way home. Argh… Yeah, the latter, probably, especially when she tried to hide her radiance each time her eyes happened to meet mine!

  Why hide it, Nata? It’s not your fault that your little sister learned nothing but how to get smashed and stoned. You feel sorry for me? Like that guy with his damn R50?

  The girls are up already, walking in and out of the room with toothbrushes and towels. I put on a long T-shirt and we go to the kitchen for some coffee.

  Natalia and I frown and sigh with every move. We resort to uncontrollable moans when we sit down on the kitchen stools, tensely holding onto the table. Lena lifts her eyebrows, puts coffee in front of us and lands effortlessly on the third stool.

  ‘Really? That bad? Weird, but I don’t feel anything.’

  ‘No wonder, Len. You didn’t lift your ass once last night,’ Natalia replies. ‘I hope that nerd at least paid you well for sitting with him for all that time.’

  ‘He is not a nerd! He is a nice man. His name is Mark, and yes, he gave me two thousand.’ She smiles and touches her forehead. ‘If only I hadn’t drunk so much last night.’

  Natalia whistles. ‘Not bad… what does he do?’

  ‘He is an architect, and he is a well-mannered man. He even refused to have a dance with me, saying that he doesn’t need to see my body to be interested in me. He didn’t want to demean me by making me strip in front of him.’

  ‘Oh man, where do you find them? Or rather, how do they find you? All I heard last night was, “I want to touch your pussy” and “How much for a shag?”’ Natalia giggles, then catches my eye and stops abruptly.

  ‘Shall we go to the shop? We need some food, girls,’ I say, as casually as I can.

  I’d do pretty much anything to avoid this discussion.

  Natalia gets up. ‘I’ll go and dress.’

  ‘I don’t feel good.’ Lena holds her head. ‘I’ll probably get some more sleep. Please buy me shampoo? You know the one I always use.’

  ‘No problem. Feel better.’ I get up, hug and kiss her, and also leave the kitchen.

  The shop is about a twenty-minute walk away, which we enjoy regardless of the heat. The sun is a little too strong, but after the last week in freezing Kiev it feels divine on our skin. We discuss silly stuff, like if we looked at the planet from a distance, we would see ourselves walking upside down compared to Mom and Dad in Ukraine, and if there were no airplanes, how long it would take us to get to South Africa.

  The way back is a completely different story. Our heavy shopping bags make the playful sun a burning monster, and turn a twenty-minute walk into a never-ending one. We tried not to buy too much, but even some necessities and a minimum of food became a heavy burden.

  Half way through we even stop talking; only heavy panting accompanies our steps. All of a sudden a quick dark shadow jumps out of nowhere, knocks me to the ground and flees
as rapidly as it approached us.

  With ‘Hey, watch where you’re going, dude!’ Natalia helps me up.

  I bend to pick up a can of peas and feel my empty shoulder. ‘What the fuck! He stole my bag!’

  ‘Stop the bastard! He stole the bag!’ Natalia starts shouting too, waving her arms in the direction of the guy who has already disappeared. ‘He stole the bag!’

  I pull her hand. ‘Nata, stop shouting. There is no one on the street.’

  She looks around. ‘What the hell? How did that happen?’

  ‘Let’s go home. Luckily I took my passport out before we left and my phone is in my jeans’ pocket…’ I sigh. ‘Oh, and luckily I didn’t make much money last night, and have just spent most of it.’

  ‘Good, but maybe we should go to the police or something?’

  ‘And say what? A dark shadow robbed us on the street? The only thing we noticed was that the guy was black. And very fit I guess… wow… He was fast.’

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t see his face either. Shit! Let’s call Irina and see what she says.’

  We come back home and go straight to the kitchen to unpack the bags. Natalia dials Irina, shoots out what happened, and then falls silent while nodding into the receiver.

  ‘So?’ I ask when she puts the phone down. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She said…’ Natalia yanks a bag of apples and a pack of juice and hurls them into the fridge, ‘she said, quote: “I am glad no one’s hurt. Don’t bother with the police. Be careful in future.”’

  Natalia slams the fridge door shut and looks at me. ‘Oh, she also said, quote: “Welcome to South Africa!”’

  7

  It’s been twenty minutes already. Twenty minutes! I lie on the couch in the private room with my legs spread wide while he stares at my pussy.

  He is a white male, in his forties, well dressed, fairly good looking, who claims he has never been close to it, other than in the darkness of his bedroom, strictly under the bedcovers. Embarrassment and thrill, disturbance and curiosity smear in confusion on his face.