Scandalous (12 page)

7 February 2007

I
T'S ONE O'CLOCK
and I'm waiting for him outside the
same hotel as the first time. We're going to spend two
hours together because I have to go to work afterwards.
The episode with Pierre is fresh in my mind and my eyes
are darting frantically in every direction. I try to watch
everyone who passes without being spotted myself,
hoping Joe will get here soon. Ironically, I will only feel
comfortable when I'm alone with him in the room. I
know that no passers-by who see us together in the street
would be duped.

I once talked to a prostitute without actually revealing
my own shady activities to her and she told me that when
she's waiting on a pavement she stays in touch with her
'colleagues' every half-hour by mobile phone. The minute
one of them gets into a car she lets all the others
know so that they can take action if they don't see her
come back safely. Students, who operate mostly via the
internet, are definitely exposed to much more danger
alone in a room than standing on a pavement.

I see him in the distance, still armed with his magician's
briefcase. We give each other a kiss hello and he
says, 'Go up to the room ahead of me.'

'Why?'

'Because of last time with those policemen, I'd rather
we tried to be more discreet. You never know. Ask for
the key at reception. I didn't know your surname so I
gave them mine.'

Of course he doesn't know my surname. And there's
no way he ever will.

'Then go up and make yourself comfortable. I'll be up
shortly.'

By 'make yourself comfortable' he means put on the
sexy clothes he's asked me to bring. I nod and head over
to reception. The young woman at the desk looks up at
me with a professional smile on her face.

When I get to the room I listen to see if there are any
sounds coming from inside. I'm convinced I can hear
moaning, I'm getting suspicious now. Someone might be
waiting for me and might want to hurt me. I literally
flatten my ear against the white wood of the door.
Nothing: so I conclude that my endless imagination is
playing tricks on me, and I must stop being so paranoid.
I turn the key in the lock.

When I open the door the first thing that greets me are
the green curtains. Just like the first time I'm struck by
how ugly they are. This room is definitely smaller but the
décor is identical, so it feels more or less the same.
Nothing much has changed so far and I find that
strangely reassuring.

I notice a laptop sitting on a table opposite the bed.
There's a porn film playing on the screen and I'm relieved
to discover I wasn't dreaming: that's where the moaning
is coming from. There's a note on the bed. Another thing
that hasn't changed about Joe. Leaving letters for his
expensive lovers is clearly one of his fantasies.

Laura,

I'm very happy to be seeing you again today. I'd like
you to start by having a shower. Then I will come
and knock on the door three times. I want you to
say, 'Come in, master.'

After that I'd like you to lie down on the bed. I
want you to say, 'Hello, master, everything you see
here is yours.'

How ridiculous! He's stepped up his domination fantasies.
I'm starting to feel frightened. The mood of this
session is breaking away from last time – Joe kept things
more at arm's length then.

At no point does the letter mention the computer. Just
this once, Laura, and it'll be the last, I tell myself.

I go over to the machine slowly, to have a look at it.
I'm beginning to wonder whether it's for me or if Joe just
wants to thumb his nose at me. I feel he could do either.
I finger the keyboard gently, longing for it but still
wondering whether I'm really prepared to do anything to
have it. And what if this laptop isn't for me? What if he
decides not to give it to me at the end? My whole mind
revolves round the thought of owning it, my wanting it
has become an immeasurable need. I want this laptop
whatever it costs me.

I decide to go and have a shower to get things straight
inside my head. There's a nice surprise waiting for me in
the bathroom: there isn't a mirror. I don't think I would
have coped with seeing myself today; on my nineteenth
birthday preparing to sell my body for the sake of a
computer. I have a quick shower and I'm still drying
myself when I hear Joe bang on the door. I go over to
the middle of the room, naked, and say, 'Come in,
master.'

I can't help laughing when I hear myself saying these
words. I can picture him grinning with delight on the
other side of the door. Instead, he comes in and stares at
me for a few seconds before saying curtly, 'We won't
have any giggling.'

He must feel that, given his generous present, he can
afford to be more demanding with me. Come on,
sweetheart, I think to myself, don't try to be too clever
today. Play the game, there's a laptop at stake . . . I'm
really obsessed with the thing.

'Lie down,' Joe says, interrupting my thoughts, 'so that
you're across the width of the bed and on your stomach.'

I do as I'm told without any resistance, not even daring
to open my mouth to speak. In this position, Joe can see
my body clearly, especially my buttocks which I loathe.
It's the middle of the day and the light's coming straight
through the green curtains – which is hardly surprising,
given the state they're in. I really don't feel comfortable.

My body is longer than the bed is wide so my head and
feet hang over the sides. Joe notices this and says, 'Let
your head drop down and put your hands under the bed.'

I do as he says, although I can't really see where he's
going with this. I just hope he's not going to ask me to
put my left leg on my head or do a headstand! I can feel
the cold edge of a cardboard box under the bed. I pull it
towards me to get it out of its hiding place and have a
look at it.

A laptop. My laptop. I can't help smiling when I see
it. My mind's suddenly whirring manically. Now that
I've got my present, why should I sleep with him? But
how could I think for a minute Joe would let me get
away with that?

He's not that stupid. He must have seen the glimmer
of malice in my eye because he suddenly says, 'Of course
you can open it afterwards.'

So I'll have to go through with this; there's no escape.
I've just grasped that he's also going to pay me for today. I
smile at the thought of these future riches. I'm also feeling
genuinely emotional: this computer's the most expensive
present anyone's ever given me. I haven't been given much
in life without something being expected in return.
Obviously, Joe gives me something in financial terms but
I've now had a glimpse of another aspect of his personality
which I didn't know about till today: his human side,
his generosity. At least, that's what I tell myself.

The vicious circle has begun: he's manipulating me but
I don't realise he is. Joe knows what he's doing. He
wants me and knows he needs to impress me with
money. The boundaries between us have been pushed
back further. Joe's in the driving seat.

He asks me to sit on the bed, beside him. The film on
the computer has been on pause and now he turns up the
volume. It's an amateur sadomasochistic film featuring a
naked woman – fortyish and slightly plump – being
burned with a candle. She's tied to the chair she's sitting
on, there's wax trickling between her breasts and she's
screaming for her life. The more she screams, the more
the cruel bastard responsible for her suffering enjoys it.
She seems to be enjoying it too, in fact. The images flit
before my eyes without making an impression on my
retina; I actually find it really hard to watch the scene.

I quite often watch porn films: out of curiosity with
girlfriends or to heighten arousal with a boy, like
everyone. But sadomasochistic stuff is totally different. I
don't think I'll ever grasp the appeal of that sort of film.
After a couple of minutes I can't stand the scene any
longer and have to look away. I've turned to stone
watching those images. Joe, on the other hand, absolutely
loves them.

'Honestly, Joe, I can't watch this. It's just not my
thing.'

'The problem is that it is my thing, but I won't ask you
to watch.'

His tone of voice is radically different from last time.
He sounds full of contempt for me. I've slipped to the
ranks of the lowliest whore, only here to spread her legs
and shut her mouth.

'What I want to suggest is that you tie your hands to
the bed.'

I immediately make the connection with the video.
Does he want to burn me too? And there I was thinking
I was safer with him in a hotel room! Joe softens slightly.

'Don't worry, Laura.'

He moves closer to me gently, then leans my body
slowly backwards till I'm lying down, before turning me
onto my side. Next he brings my hands together behind
my back and ties them together with my jumper which
is lying on the bed. The knot isn't very tight which I do
find quite reassuring – I could break free if I wanted to.

Joe doesn't seem inclined to leave that option open for
me. He produces a piece of cord from nowhere and ties
my ankles, also behind my back. Then, as a security
measure, he ties my feet and wrists together. I must look
like a slab of cold meat on a butcher's block. Why am I
letting him do this to me?

Now he takes a dildo from his briefcase. It's not the
first time I've seen a real one, but this looks bigger. At
the sight of the thing, I shudder and give a little whimper
of fear. Joe doesn't react. He couldn't really care, now
that I'm tied up.

Captive. I'm at his fucking mercy now.

He comes over to me and puts a screwed-up tissue in
my mouth, then completes the effect with a blindfold
round my head. In a couple of minutes he's succeeded in
immobilising me and silencing me, and I haven't had a
chance to react. I feel powerless and just keep thinking
in terror, Even if he hurts me I can't scream.

With the help of lubricant and his artificial toy, Joe
manages to arouse me physically. Then comes the horror
and suffering. The first thrust is indescribably painful.

I scream but it stays muffled inside the tissue. He
doesn't stop, oh no, quite the opposite. I'm bellowing
'Stop,' inaudibly and the tears are streaming down my
face because the pain is so unbearable. I clamp my thighs
together as best I can to make him understand he's got
to stop. I writhe furiously so that he now can't get
anything inside me, try as he might. And anyway, my
wails must be becoming audible from outside. Panicking
at my desperation, he finally unties the blindfold and the
cord, setting me free once more. As soon as the last knot
is undone, I jump to my feet and turn slowly to face him,
my hair all over the place, still gasping for breath – I
must look like one of the Furies. I look him right in the
eye. I could kill him.

He just looks at me rather sheepishly, perfectly aware
of how I feel. But, yet again, he seems to like the
situation. Looking at my red, bloodshot eyes, he says,
'What's the matter? I thought that was what you liked,
being submissive.'

Even he doesn't believe it. I don't say anything but
snatch up my clothes and start getting dressed as quickly
as I can. Who knows what else he could do! I've seen
enough for today. For ever, actually.

'Are you leaving? We agreed on two hours. You've
still got another hour to spend with me.'

Afraid that he might get violent, I decide to invent an
excuse. He probably won't believe it but who cares, I've
got to get out of here. With shaking hands, I find the
strength to mumble unintelligibly quickly, 'It's my birthday
today so I'm not actually going to work. My friends
are waiting for me in a café to celebrate over a drink. I'm
halfway through exams as well, so I won't be able to
spend long with them, because I've got to get home to
revise afterwards.'

I spew out as many excuses as possible, thinking that
in amongst all those lies there must be one that will do
the job. I can feel my mind and body on the brink of a
panic attack. I've got to get out quickly before I go mad
in here, in this tacky hotel room. Money or no money,
I'm getting out of the place.

Joe then uses the last argument that might mollify me
enough to stay a bit longer. He plays the excuses card
too. 'You mustn't take it like that, Laura. It was just a
little fantasy.'

'A little fantasy? Well, it's absolutely not my idea of
one.'

I stop at that, seeing no point in saying anything else.
I'm now completely dressed and I'm just putting my coat
on when Joe says, 'Aren't you going to shower?'

'No, I'm leaving,' I snap.

I've broken several of his instructions in one go and it's
put him off his stride, he doesn't know how to react. I
certainly don't want to give him time to think about it,
I've already got my hand on the door handle. I retrace
my steps for a moment, aware that I've forgotten
something. Without even looking at him, I grab the
laptop and put it under my arm before running out of the
room as quickly as I can.

Joe catches up with me in the corridor.

'Here, Laura, you forgot this too,' he says, handing me
an envelope. The same as last time. I open it . . . to find
400 euros inside. He brings his hand to my face as I look
up at him. My features are more strained than ever.

'It was good,' he says stroking my hair, 'I liked it.'

He says it with a 'there's a good girl' intonation which
makes me feel sick again. I basically rip the envelope
from his hand and escape without a backward glance.

I run breathlessly out of the hotel. There are tears
streaming down my cheeks and they almost turn to ice
in the freezing winter air. I just can't be alone so I go
straight to my favourite bar, the one that welcomed me
that first time, all those weeks ago, when I didn't feel like
going home.