The room was dimly lit, and Claire shivered inside as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Rack, gallows, iron-bar cage, tongs, whips, chains, masks, rubber and leather clothes, and various instruments to stick into body orifices.
“Down here you’ll be a queen and dominatrix, I think. You should know that many of our masochists are very important men with exclusive tastes. Have you done it before?”
“No,” Claire said. “But there’s nothing wrong with my imagination.”
“You’ll get some recordings and film to take home with you. We have videos of most of our regular customers. They all have different desires. The most bizarre, right now anyway, is someone who wants needles stuck through his foreskin-can you handle something like that?”
Claire nodded. “If it’s part of the job…”
“Also, you’re an obvious choice for doing high-class escort. Lasse is our driver and bodyguard. When you’re out with a new customer we have a security system. It’s a special cell phone that stays on so Lasse can hear everything. He’s also Teddy Bear’s man.”
“Teddy Bear’s man?”
“Teddy Bear is our owner, he owns the whole building. We pay rent to him, Lasse takes care of that. Teddy Bear’s okay. He comes around once in a while for a session down here in the torture chamber. You’ll meet him. He’s going to be wild about you.”
“I don’t want to be whipped or tortured myself,” Claire said firmly.
“No, of course not. That’s no problem. One of the Thai girls, Cindy, is pretty tough. She takes all the sadists… and Theresa is good with all the seniors, the gross-looking ones, and the handicapped…”
The problem came up back at reception.
“I’m going to get our photographer to take some gorgeous shots of you now, for the website. I’ll show it to you,” Bonnie said, and sat down at the computer.
“I won’t appear on any website. If that’s a condition we’ll have to forget the whole thing,” Claire said.
Bonnie looked serious, thought for a moment, and then said: “They need to, like, know what they’re buying. Couldn’t we show your body without your head?”
“No,” Claire answered.
“Okay, we’ll make an exception and put a different body out. You’re so beautiful, nobody will be disappointed if they even notice they’ve been tricked.”
The website popped up.
Bonnie pointed: “Here’s our Thais, Cindy and Lara. That’s what we call all of them. We bring new ones in about every three months. They don’t show their heads here, either. It’s more because of the authorities. They’re only here on a tourist visa… And here’s Alette. We haven’t taken her off the site yet. Isn’t she sweet?” A tear ran down Bonnie’s cheek and was slowly absorbed by her open pores.
Claire stared at the picture of a skinny young girl with empty eyes, a half-open mouth, and disproportionately large silicone breasts, “playing with herself,” as the text claimed. She was in the process of inserting a black dildo.
“Apparently she didn’t have any family. We were the only ones at her funeral, anyway,” Bonnie sighed. “What would you like to be called?” she then asked.
“I’m Michelle,” Claire answered.
“But do you want to use your real name?”
“Just call me Michelle,” Claire said. “And I’ll give you my cell number, but not my ID number or my address.”
“That’s fair enough,” Bonnie answered, looking as if she was thinking like crazy about the story behind this elegant woman’s decision to debut as a whore.
Bonnie started gathering up DVDs so Claire could study the servicing of customers, and she handed her a sheet of paper filled with writing.
“This is the list of our services and prices. We call it the menu,” she explained.
Claire ran her eyes over the text. Danish, Swedish, French, Greek… female sex, bathtub sex, S &M, escort and out-calls, one girl and two girls. The typical price was thirteen hundred kroner an hour at the brothel, but it was noted that the fees were only guidelines, and that customers could have individual programs made up and prices calculated.
“Actually, we’re in a situation right now where we need someone to replace Alette. When can you start?”
“Tomorrow,” Claire answered. “I need to take a look at all this.” She nodded at the DVDs.
Just as she was leaving, Cindy and Lara walked in with Lasse, a friendly, smiling, solarium-tanned bodybuilder with a ponytail. They had been at a customer’s place on an out-call.
Lasse tossed four thousand kroner on Bonnie’s desk.
“This is Michelle, she’s starting with us tomorrow,” Bonnie said as an introduction.
“Michelle, you’re totally gorgeous!” Lasse said, and groped her breasts appreciatively, winking flirtatiously at her.
The two Thai girls held limp hands out to her and smiled shyly, their eyes on the floor, then they walked into the dressing room together to get ready for the evening customers.
Claire Winther stopped by the fitness center on the way home and spoke loudly and amiably with the receptionist and the man beside her on the treadmill, making sure that she was noticed.
At home, she poured a double gin-and-tonic, which she drank while taking a long and luxurious bubble bath. Just as she had settled in her adjustable bed with her laptop and Bonnie’s DVDs, John’s goodnight text came in:
She answered:
Then she put the first DVD in to study the whores and their customers in action.
By midnight she knew she could do this. She had a plan. Abandon her body mentally during the act, but leave her brain in charge. Most of it was banal and cliche-ish-as Bonnie had said it would be.
“They want to believe that they’re fantastic, that they have an enormous cock and make you really horny. If you play that role you almost can’t go wrong.”
First and foremost in her mind was to take good care of herself. No sadism, no anal sex, no kissing, no sex without a condom, and no appointments without security. There were alarm buttons at the clinic, and Lasse was on duty with his phone on out-calls.
She could be firm with her demands because of her status as a luxury escort.
A week passed, and the others at the clinic were impressed with the stylish novice.
The customers were also thrilled.
A local politician, a police sergeant, and a real estate tycoon made new appointments with her as soon as they were finished. That was unusual. Most customers slink off, slightly embarrassed after the conclusion of a session, and aren’t heard from again until the urge overcomes them.
She learned quickly how to answer the eternal question: “What makes a sweet, pretty girl like you…”
“Times are tough right now, and it’s a job just like any other,” she would answer.
On the third day, a straightlaced high school teacher already wanted to “save” her.
“You are far too good for this. I’m single and wouldn’t mind having a girlfriend like you,” he said.
When she told the story to the others in the kitchenette, they doubled over with laughter.
The catastrophe came on the seventh day.
A sadist went amok with Cindy down in the S &M room and ran off without paying. Cindy was shaken up from several violent blows to the head, in addition to suffering a hand wound from trying to avoid being knifed.
She sat in the kitchenette with a dish towel wrapped around her wounded hand, crying in anguish.
“She has to go to the emergency room,” Claire said.
“That’s a problem, because she’s here illegally,” replied Bonnie.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work, but I’ll call Teddy Bear,” Lasse said. He punched the brothel owner’s number,
